


you've got a pretty kind of dirty face

by alix8



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood and Violence, Daddy Kink, Depression, Drinking, Drugs, Eating Disorders, F/M, Fluff, Gang Violence, Gangsters, Gets very dramatic, Graphic Description, Guns, Heist, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I swear it gets better in time, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Inspired By Peaky Blinders, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Self-Harm, Smut, Teenage Rebellion, Violence, bad boy, good girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-08 05:03:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 37
Words: 54,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15235941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alix8/pseuds/alix8
Summary: Damien Black knows nothing outside the life of crime. He grew up around weapons, drugs, and violence; the sounds of gunshots and sirens were his lullaby. When he was eight years old, his father gave him his first knife with the words ‘you're mine’ engraved on the blade for his birthday. All his clothes have been stained with blood at some point, and he can’t go to bed without a gun underneath the pillow. Everyone fears him, even if he’s only nineteen. He knows this life, and this life is his home.Cassandra Hayworth has been privileged all her life. She was born with a golden spoon in her mouth, never having to worry about anything other than her academic performance. She’s the perfect daughter, who goes to church every Sunday and does everything her parents ask of her. She knows routine and scheduled weeks, she knows multiple maids and horseback riding, she knows etiquette and which fork goes for which dish. She knows this life, and she feels utterly unsatisfied.***OR: bad boy falls for good girl, there's a lot of crime and violence, but they're all just kids, really.





	1. one.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!
> 
> It's my first long work ever! Also my first time publishing anything I've written! Wow ~~
> 
> I've never really been committed to finishing work so I'm p surprised I was able to do this and write so much. It's heavily inspired by Peaky Blinders (some dialogue and certain scenes) bc it's my fave show so
> 
> Please be kind I'm not really a writer welp and i PROMISE it gets better as it goes on
> 
> ENJOY! x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Scroll to the very end to see a few mood boards I made (with casting!) in case you wanted to visualise what I see when I write this story. FEEL FREE TO COMPLETELY IGNORE THIS! You don't have to imagine the characters as these people at all, it's just how I personally see them. All original photos belong to their respective owners.
> 
> Possible TW in this chapter: mention of drugs
> 
> word count: 1,507

“Who’s that with Elliot?” Cassandra asks her best friend, Lucy. They both look to the entrance of the school building, where the school’s newest student and resident bad boy, Elliot Parker, is talking to another mysterious boy. He looks around their age, and he has jet black hair and piercing grey eyes, sunken in and tired looking. He has both arms completely covered in tattoos, shown through his ripped up band shirt, and metal adorning his face with two silver hoops around his left nostril and a silver bar through his right eyebrow. Just like Elliot, but with less piercings and more tattoos.

Lucy shrugs. “Dunno… looks like bad news to me.” she says, gathering her bag from the floor of Cassandra’s silver Tesla.

“He’s cute.” Cassandra says softly. Lucy scoffs.

“As if.” she says, rolling her eyes. They get out of the car and head towards the school’s overarching entrance. They brush past the two boys, both getting a closer look at them, and Lucy is filled with disgust as Cassandra is brimming with curiosity.

“Don’t even think about it, Damien.” Elliot says with a laugh. “She’s a real Catholic prude.”

“She’s proper fit is what she is.” Damien says, voice dripping with a thick northern english accent, as rough and rugged as he is. “She’s got a nice car. Should I nick it?” he asks with his famous impish smile.

“You could. She’s got another one.” Elliot says, shaking his head. “These kids, man. They’ve got so much money that you could steal a hundred from their wallets and they won’t even notice. I know, I do it everyday.” he says.

Damien eyes Elliot’s outfit and shakes his head. “Yeah, but look at you. You’re one of them posh kids now.” he says, playfully hitting Elliot’s navy blue uniform tie and dusting off the blazer. “Unbelievable. Never thought I’d see you dressed like one of these fuckers.” he says.

Elliot huffs. “Well why’d you think I didn’t want you to ever come visit me here? I look like an idiot.” he says, loosening his tie upsettingly. “Anyways, it’s just my foster parents. But they can’t return me back to the orphanage, so maybe I’ll just run away or something when they get proper sick of me. So I expect to be out of here sooner than later..” he says with a scowl, eyeing all of the expensive cars parked in the driveway.

“Yeah but with all the money you’ve collected from these twats, you can buy the lads and I drinks, eh?” Damien asks with a mischievous grin.

“Fat chance, Black.” Elliot says with a laugh, jokingly shoving Damien’s arm. Before Damien could respond, the school bell rings. “You got smokes?” he asks, and Damien raises an eyebrow.

“Haven’t you got class?” he asks tauntingly.

Elliot shrugs. “I skip first period all the time.” he says, and they both settle comfortably on the ground.

Cassandra walks out of the school and sees the pair still talking. They’re sat on the front steps, smoking cigarettes. She looks utterly scandalised. “Excuse me, smoking is prohibited on school grounds. And anyway, it’s gonna kill you.” she says somewhat confidently, but when they both turn their heads to face her, under their cool gaze, all she wanted to do was cower.

“If anything’s gonna kill me, it’s not gonna be smoking.” Damien says, and they both laugh like they had a big inside joke. Cassandra feels out of place.

“Sh-shouldn’t you be in class?” she asks Elliot.

“I could ask the same for you.” Elliot says, putting out his finished cigarette and lazily flicking the butt away from him.

“I’ve got a free period. I know for a fact that you don’t. You don’t have enough credits.” she says. “If you don’t go back to class I’ll report you to the headmaster and he’ll call your parents.” she threatens, secretly hoping that her power and confidence will impress Damien.

Elliot rolls his eyes and groans. “Fuck, I’m not dealing with that.” he tells Damien, begrudgingly standing up and grabbing his backpack off the ground, slinging it over one shoulder. “I’ll see you tonight?” he asks.

Damien nods and gives the boy a fist bump. He watches as Elliot enters the school with dragged feet, putting out his cigarette and fishing a fresh one from behind his ear.

“You can’t smoke on campus.” she says, much meeker than earlier. He doesn’t respond and only looks at her with an unreadable expression. She gulps and beings to panic internally. “I know a lot of people in jail.” she says, lying between her teeth, the feeling of wanting to impress him growing.

He chuckles easily, cigarette between his teeth. “How many you know break out?”

Her jaw drops, completely dropping the cool facade. “You’ve broken out of jail?!” she exclaims, her eyes widening in disbelief… though she can’t deny the awe that’s seeping into her tone.

He just smiles impishly and lights his cigarette. “Once or twice.” he says. “But I’m clean now though. Just served full time. So I’ve got a blank slate for now.” he says as easily as he talks about the weather.

He’s dangerous and she knows it, but she can’t deny the absolute rush she feels just being in his presence. So when he begins to stand up and leave, she feels panicked that she’ll never feel this adrenaline again. “Can I give you my number?” she asks quickly.

He glances at her with a smirk. He’s got her wrapped around his little finger. “Sure.” he says. He takes out his phone, a new one he took from the pocket of one of his victims. Of course he had brought it to their tech guy to wipe it clean and make it good as new, he’s not an idiot.

She programmes her number in, trying to will her fingers to stop shaking. He takes the phone back and takes a drag from his cigarette. “Cassie Hayworth.” he reads, blowing out smoke as he walks past her.

“And what’s your name?” she asks when he’s almost at the exit gates of the school. He stops and turns to face her, eyes scanning her body language. Up on the tip of her toes, waiting in absolute anticipation, bright and eager eyes… it’s almost too easy.

“Damien.” he says.

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=zj8acw)

Damien walks into his house and is immediately greeted by his father’s cooking. “Hey, how was your day?” he asks from the kitchen, turning the stove off.

“It was alright. Visited Elliot’s new school… never seen something so bougie.” he says with a scoff, placing his car keys on the nearby table. “How was yours?” he asks, walking into the kitchen and sneaking a chicken wing from the counter top.

His dad shrugs. “Same old. And hey, wait for dinner.” he says sternly. Damien rolls his eyes but backs away from the counter anyway. He knows better than to go against his dad. The basement door opens and a faint sound of begging trickles its way out into their living area.

“Damien, what sort of trouble are you getting into now?” his mother asks, closing the door to the basement and effectively shutting off the noise.

“Sneaking food again.” his dad says with a chuckle, shaking his head and going back to cooking.

His mother sighs. “You know we do everything as a family. Chores, eat,” she begins.

“Kill?” he adds. She rolls her eyes at him but fondly smiles anyway.

“Like I said. Everything.” she says while he and his father laugh. “Anyways, your father and I cooked a new batch. It’s on your table. Finish weighing and packaging everything, then come down and set the table.” she says.

“Yes ma’am.” he says, walking up the stairs and into his bedroom. Once there, a large bag of high grade crystal methamphetamine sitting on his table. He huffs and sits down, taking out a box of smaller Ziplock bags and a weighing scale from one of his drawers. His mum, Natalia, is a chemistry prodigy, even taught at Oxford University at one point. She made her own recipe to make the highest quality glass on the market. She cooks, his dad, Greyson, sources out all the ingredients and equipment they need, Damien weighs, packages, and when he’s in the mood, sells. But they usually have other people to do low work like that.

He puts on his disposable gloves and gets to work. It only takes him thirty minutes to finish up, and he rushes downstairs to the kitchen. His gloves are still on as he sits down at the dinner table, eagerly awaiting food.

“Gloves off, Damien.” his dad says. He removes them quickly, not even realising they were on, and pockets them. His mum places a chicken wing on his plate and he immediately devours it.

“Also, there’s a meeting tomorrow at the warehouse. Make sure Elliot isn’t late again.” his mum says sternly. He merely nods, all his focus on the delicious food in front of him.

\--

**CASTING**

_Damien_

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=foers0)

_Cassie_

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=11afy8m)

_Elliot_

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=2yor88i)

_Logan (and Louis!)_

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=zusfps)

_Pax_

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=zredz)

_Tyler_

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=35i5gg4)

_Rose_

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=a2zupc)

_Eleanor_

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=27xjzh3)


	2. two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one's short!
> 
> Possible TW in this chapter: mention of gun violence
> 
> word count: 796

Damien sends a quick text to Elliot before starting his car up and plugging his phone into the aux.

**To: E the idiot**

picking u up from school, meeting @ warehouse cant be late

He sighs in disappointment when he checks his messages to see a lack of notification from Cassie, but shrugs it off immediately. It’s not that he cares that much, but like, he kind of does. He doesn’t really understand why because he’s never been like this with any girl before. He’s always just slept with them whenever he pleased, and snuck out on them in the early hours of the morning. He never gets their phone numbers, and he definitely never waits around for a text.

As he pulls into the school’s driveway, he’s come to the conclusion that it’s just because she reeks of innocence and he wants to have a quick shag to ruin it. Nothing more.

He parks the car and checks his phone again. Still nothing. He groans and gets out of the car, leaning against the hood and uses one hand to play around with his keys, and the other to scroll through random conspiracy theories on Twitter. He waits for six minutes exactly before he heard footsteps.

“Fucking finally, E.” he says with an annoyed groan. He looks up and doesn’t see Elliot, but Cassie standing there. His breath hitches slightly, but he doesn’t let it show. He regains his composure quickly. “Cassandra Hayworth.” he says cockily, leaning back onto his car. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” 

“You’re not allowed to park here. Students and staff only.” she says firmly, but she’s blushing under his gaze. Damien laughs and shakes his head.

“Just waiting to pick up Elliot, relax love.” he says.

“He’s in detention.” she says.

He rolls his eyes. “Bloody hell, he could’ve let me know, that wanker.” he says before opening his car door and getting in.

“You haven’t texted me.” she says quickly, and he stops shutting the door mid-way. He looks up at her with a raised eyebrow and his signature smirk.

“ _You_ haven’t texted me.” he taunts back, right hand tapping against the steering wheel and the left hand reaching forward to gently caress her exposed thigh. “You know baby, if you just drop your too-good-for-me act, we could have a lot of fun tonight.” he says huskily.

Her eyes widen and she finds herself nodding, almost in a trance-like state.

“Tell you what. We can go for dinner tomorrow night. I’ll show you a good time.” he says. Her heart races. Before she can respond, Elliot comes running out of the school, panting hard and collapses onto the hood of Damien’s car.

“Oi, tosser! Don’t scratch me car!” he exclaims angrily, pulling his attention away from Cassie, much to her disappointment.

“Sorry, sorry.” Elliot says, trying to catch his breath. “Had detention but had to sneak out. Just saw your text. Don’t really feel like getting shot in the arm for being late. Again.” he says, making his way into the front seat. Cassie’s eyes widen in fear, and Damien nudges his arm in warning, head cocking ever so slightly towards her direction. “Oh, hey Cassie.” Elliot says in shock. “It’s a joke. Obviously.” he says.

“Yeah, pick your mouth back up from the ground, love. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Damien says smoothly before shutting the car door and driving away.

“See her tomorrow?” Elliot questions, turning the air conditioning on blast and aiming it straight towards his face. He loosens his uniform tie and takes deep breaths.

Damien shrugs, and because he doesn’t want to think about feelings or the odd thoughts in his head right now, he settles for: “Reckon she’ll be a good shag.” he says.

Elliot scoffs. “Virgin, from what I hear.”

“Exactly.” Damien says. Elliot laughs and Damien doesn’t.

They arrive at the warehouse pretty quickly, as nobody in their organisation drives the speed limit. The minimum they drive might be double it. They stumble into the warehouse, and Elliot instantly gets picked on for his outfit.

“I didn’t know we had a meeting! Didn’t have time to change.” he says with a pout that makes him seem much younger than he is.

Damien eggs the insults on, and Elliot just rolls his eyes. “He’s gone posh on us, lads.” Damien says with a smirk, and they all laugh.

“HA HA, very funny.” Elliot says sarcastically, taking off his school blazer and crumpling it into a ball in his hands. He’ll probably get shit for that from his adoptive parents, but it’s not like they really care. They don’t even have to deal with it as they have a maid do their washing up for them.


	3. three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible TW in this chapter: underage drinking
> 
> word count: 1,836

Damien spends an extra hour getting ready for tonight. He did and redid his hair about four times, changed out of six different outfits, and even seriously contemplated borrowing some of his mum’s concealer to hide his dark bags. He decided against that last one, though.

Yet, if anyone asked, he couldn’t care less.

He bounds down the stairs, checking his appearance through the mirror on top of the fire place one last time. He tugs at the corner of his Adidas jacket somewhat nervously. He jumps when he suddenly hears a voice. “You look nice.”

Damien snaps his head back, clutching his rapidly beating heart over his white t-shirt with random rips around it. “Jesus fucking Christ!” he exclaims.

His dad merely laughs. “Sorry.” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “Date night?” he asks, and Damien shakes his head.

“No.” he says defensively, but blushes.

His dad snorts. “Yeah, sure.” he says, sounding like he doesn’t believe him at all. “Guess you’re _finally_ over Eleanor, huh?”

“Fuck off.” Damien says, covering his face in embarrassment. His dad laughs, taking his cup of tea and going back up to his room. Damien leaves and drives straight to the address he was texted.

When he gets there, his eyes widen. It’s not necessarily that he’s surprised to see how large her house is, but _every single house_ in the neighbourhood are just as large. He was in a different part of the city, sure, but he honesty felt like he wasn’t in Chicago anymore. To him, his city never has, and never will be, this neighbourhood.

He parks outside and barely has time to close the car door behind him when Cassie comes bounding down the walkway. He was gonna go and pick her up from the door, but he has to remind himself that it’s not a date. He doesn’t have to do that. She saved him the trouble of making himself look like an utter fool, he supposes.

She’s wearing a green dress, tight around her torso and fans out below her waist. It’s short enough to make him want more, but long enough to make her a girl he wouldn’t normally go for. She stands out from all the other girls he’s brought into his car, but nobody’s made his breath hitch quite like she does.

“You look beautiful.” he says sincerely; his cocky, womanising facade melted away. She blushes and tucks a perfectly curled strand of hair behind her ear.

“Thank you.” she says quietly.

He opened the passenger door for her, and he didn’t even know he did it until it’s too late. _It’s not meant to be a date_ , he thinks desperately. He gets a bit sad at that, but he’d never tell anyone. She thanks him again, bashfully, and he shuts her door. When he gets into the driver’s seat, he turns to face her.

“You’re quite the gentleman.” she says. She’s utterly excited. She doesn’t really know what to expect. She’s only ever dated one other guy in the past; he was very nice and that was about it. There was nothing else about him, but she didn’t realise at the time because it’s all she knew. Everyone around her was like that. They lasted a year and a half.

But he looks so breathtaking in the moonlight, and she wants to kiss him right there.

“Always am.” he says cheekily, and she giggles. They stay quiet for a few seconds, just looking at each other. The tension feels kind of thick, and it makes him want to kiss her. But not in his usual quick, dominating and rough manner, just trying to get her into bed as fast as possible. But a slow, passionate, lingering kiss; both chaste and heated at the same time. It scares him. “Do you always dress so nice for hangouts?” he asks, and even he cringes internally. He regrets the words as soon as they flew out of his mouth. _Stupid fucking twat_ , he thinks to himself angrily. He doesn’t let it show.

Her eyes flash sadness and disappointment quickly, but she recovers soon enough. He feels an unimaginable amount of guilt. “Yeah, well, you’ll never know who you’ll see, right?” she says with a small laugh that contained absolutely no humour.

“Suppose so.” he says quietly, beginning to drive.

The silence is unbearable, so he continues playing the song he was listening to when he parked. She smiles to herself a little bit, but he catches it from the corner of his eye. “You like it?” he asks in amusement.

“ _My eyes dilate, my lips go green, my hands are greasy, she's a mean, mean machine_.” she sings along easily. He could listen to her voice for forever.

“Didn’t take you for a Rolling Stones fan.” he says in delighted disbelief. “Or a singer.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, apparently.” she teases, and his heart skips a beat more than it should. “I love the Rolling Stones. My dad plays them all the time.” she says, her voice nostalgic.

“What else don’t I know about you?” he asks.

She hums in thought before speaking. “I’m a cheerleader.” she says and he smiles wickedly.

“Bet you look great in that uniform too.” he says, giving her a cheeky wink before turning back to the road. She swoons internally, biting her lip to prevent herself from squealing.

They listen and sing along to _Sticky Fingers Live at the Fonda Theatre_ , and found themselves forgetting about the tension entirely.

He parks the car and gets out of the driver’s seat, and because he forgot once more that it’s not a date, he opens her door. She smiles up at him and takes his outstretched hand as she gets out of the car. He smells of cologne and cigarettes, and she surprises herself when she thinks she could bask in the scent forever.

He locks his door and they head into the restaurant. It’s pretty nice, but she’s not intimidated as she’s been to the fanciest restaurants in the world. Still, she didn’t expect such a nice place for their ‘hangout’.

It’s quite a busy night, and the two teenagers are practically ignored. Yet, he goes to the maître d’, Cassie following behind him. “Table for two.” he says. He’s not asking.

“Do you have a reservation?” she asks, her nose turned up at them.

“No.” he says with a scoff.

“Well, we can’t sit those without a reserv—,” she begins with an eye roll. The disrespect hits him hard, and as Cassie is about to place a hand on his arm to let him know they can go somewhere else, he speaks.

“Black.” he tells her. His voice is deep and dominating with an all-consuming authority. The one word is filled with so much intimidation. The tone sends a shiver down Cassie’s spine, instinctively pulling herself closer to him in some sort of submission, even if he wasn’t even talking to her. He smirks, noticing her movement, and wraps an arm around her waist possessively. She positively preens at his attention.

The maître d’ widens her eyes in shock and fumbles a few menus quickly. “O-oh, I’m s-sorry, M-Mr. Black… r-right this way.” she stutters, adjusting her skirt and begins to show them to a table.

Cassie watches in shock as the fully grown woman scrabbled around in fear of him, when he’s just a teenage boy. She’s unsure of what fully happened, and she doesn’t think she wants to know either.

When they’re shown to a table with an amazing view of the city, he pulls her seat out for her. She sits with a small and shy “thank you”. _Not a date_ , they both have to remind themselves simultaneously.

He just smiles at her and takes his seat right in front of her. She watches curiously at the maître d’ as she whispers something to a waiter, whose eyes widen and quickly hurries over to their table. “Is there anything I can start you both with?” he asks, sounding very eager to help.

“A bottle of Montoya Cabernet.” he says in a perfect French accent. The waiter nods and hurries off.

“Why didn’t he ask for your ID? You don’t have a fake, do you?” she asks, panicking slightly.

He merely chuckles and shakes his head. “Don’t need one. They never ask.” he says. And okay, she can’t keep her curiosity down any longer.

“How did we get a table without a reservation?” she asks shyly. He smirks at her and shrugs, feigning innocence.

“Montoya Cabernet.” the waiter says, pouring some wine into both their glasses before leaving the bottle at the side of their table. Cassie says thank you, he does not. Damien drinks his wine as soon as the waiter leaves, and Cassie looks at it unsurely.

“You’re not gonna drink it? It’s very good.” Damien says, a hit of worry creeping into his eyes and slightly into his voice. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked what wine you like. Do you prefer white?” he asks quickly, already moving to call the waiter back. She places her hand on his, and he stops his movement. He freezes abruptly, looking at their hands on top of each other, then at her. His skin tingles where she touched it.

She looks him in his eyes with an appreciative smile. “No, no, not at all. Stop worrying. I’m just… I’ve never…” she begins, eyes wandering around shyly. “Uhm… I’ve never had wine. Never drank before. My parents never let me.” she says, still not meeting his eyes.

He visibly relaxes, and smiles at her impishly. “Well, what a great place to start! This is one of the best wines in the world.” he says. “Just take a sip, love.” Her heart skips a beat at the pet name. But she has to remind herself that it’s probably a British thing, and not a her thing.

She looks at it, then back at him, and takes the glass by the stem. She sniffs it subtly first before taking a tiny sip. Her eyes light up and she giggles, taking a bigger sip. “It’s really good.” she says.

“I told you.” he says. “But slow down there, champ. You’re gonna be drunk before your food’s out.” he says with a chuckle.

After their dinner, and the last sips of the wine has been drank, he nods to the side and asks her: “Wanna get out of here?” Honestly, he can’t get enough of her, feels like he can’t wait any longer. He wants to absolutely ravish her.

“Don’t we have to pay?” she asks cluelessly.

“Don’t worry about it.” he says with a mischievous smile. He stands and helps her up before giving a knowing look at the owner of the restaurant by the maître d’, who merely nods at him and lets them leave.

She looks at him in confusion, trying to figure it all out.


	4. four.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible TW in this chapter: implied drunk driving
> 
> word count: 1,483

As they walk outside, they laugh and their shoulders bump often. She’s slightly drunk, and he’s feeling a good buzz. Her heart is fluttering, even if she knows they said it wasn’t a date. It’s a bit embarrassing, she knows. In the middle of him telling a story about his childhood turtle who ate more than his cat, they hear his name called out. He looks behind them and sees a guy with spiked hair and black gloves.

“Patrick, hey!” he says, going over and giving him a quick hug. He doesn’t go back to her side and she whines quietly. He doesn’t hear, and she’s thankful.

“Who’s this?” Patrick asks, eyes lustful on Cassie. She shifts uncomfortably and looks down at her shoes, wanting to escape the intense gaze.

Damien doesn’t even look back when he replies. “Just one of me mates.” he says casually. Suddenly, her happy drunk sunk down into her stomach. She feels a weight land on her shoulders, no longer feeling too good.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on that date with that girl—,” Patrick begins but Damien clears his throat.

“Nah, she rejected me.” he says.

Her heart sinks further. Of course she’s not his first choice. He’s meant to go on a date with some other girl, some other beautiful girl that actually peaked his interest. Not her. Second choice, if she’s lucky. Probably fifth or sixth. She wants to cry.

Patrick looks offended for him. “Who would reject _you_?” he asks, and Damien laughs, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“It happens from time to time.” Damien says.

“Doubtful.” Patrick says. “Anyways, I gotta bounce. See you Thursday?” he asks, before sending one last stare at Cassie. Damien just nods and waves goodbye, and then goes back to her.

“So what do you wanna do next?” he asks.

She knows she should say she wants to go home. She should stay as far away from him as possible, if she knows what’s good for her. But yet her self-destructive heart wants to stay as close to him as possible. As it is, her heart wins this one. _Your funeral_ , her head thinks.

“Ice cream?” she suggests with a little drunken hiccup, and he beams at her, cooing at the small noise.

“I’ve got the perfect place.” he says.

The ice cream parlour turns out to be a bit of a drive, into the part of town that she feels uncomfortable being in. She distracts herself by focusing on their casual small talk. She tries to tell herself that it’s fine and she can deal with it, but she’s beginning to overthink everything. Who was the girl he asked out on the date? How did they meet? Was she gorgeous? Did she have sex?

Before her thoughts can get too far, he’s parking the car and he opens her door.

“Wait… did you just drive? Weren’t we drinking?” she suddenly says. He just chuckles.

“‘M not drunk like you, love. And anyways, I’m the designated drunk driver. Very good at it. I reckon I’m better intoxicated than sober.” he says with a giggle.

They don’t say anything, else and he ends up opening the door of the ice cream parlour for her as well and she scratches her nose to hide her blush. The parlour smells strongly of vanilla and old 50s music plays from the overhead speakers, filling the relatively small shop with nostalgia. Behind the counter is a sweet looking lady in her forties.

“Damien, back again, huh?” the lady asks.

“Always.” he says with an impish smile, leaning forward on the counter and balancing his weight so his feet wiggled above the ground. He’s like an overgrown child, and she can’t help but giggle.

“Who’s this? You’ve never brought one of your dates here.” she says, looking excitedly over at Cassie. “Are you finally a one-girl kind of guy?” she asks cheekily. Her heart flutters, and she hides it by looking through the ice cream options written on the blackboard above them.

His neck and ears redden but he scrunches his face in disgust. It all makes her very confused. “This isn’t a date, Mary.” he says, but his voice quivers a little bit. He sounds like a defensive five year old.

Mary chuckles. “She looks much too good for you anyway.”

“She is.” He grumbles lowly. Cassie doesn’t hear it, but Mary does. She smiles sadly at him and doesn’t say anything. This is why he loves Mary.

He doesn’t order, but Mary hands him a bowl with one scoop of cookie dough, one scoop of strawberries and cream, and one scoop of lemon. He takes it happily and goes to sit by the window. She orders one chocolate fudge scoop on a cone, and moves to take her wallet out. “Ah dear, it’s on the house.” Mary says with a kind smile. It’s like the restaurant all over again.

“Oh, no, I insist!” Cassie says. The ice cream parlour doesn’t look like the nicest place with the chipping paint and a spot of rust on the chair legs, especially since it’s situated in the bad part of town. The part her parents told her never to go to. And anyways, Cassie has a lot of money to spare.

Mary merely gives her a knowing look. “Damien and his friends don’t pay here.” she says.

“Cassie!” Damien calls out, and Cassie thanks Mary quickly before shuffling quickly to sit in front of him.

“You didn’t pay for your ice cream?” Cassie asks, and Damien shakes his head.

“Nah, my mates and I get free ice cream and in return, we keep her shop protected.” he says casually, taking a large spoonful of his ice cream. She looks at him in confusion for a few seconds, and he looks up when he notices the gap of silence. Their eyes meet, his oblivious ones to her curious. She’s trying to figure him out. Nowadays, it seems like that’s all she does. “Don’t worry about it.” he says with an impish grin. “Best ice cream in town, hands down.”

Before she could respond, her phone lights up and rings loudly. “I’m sorry, I have to take this.” she says. He shrugs and gets back to his ice cream like he doesn’t even care whether or not she’s there with him. It makes her upset.

“Hello? Mom?” she asks. “Yeah, I know… no, I’m safe. I promise. Oh. O-okay. Bye.” she says and hangs up, her face fallen.

“Your mum? What’s wrong?” he asks, genuine concern in his voice as soon as he saw her expression.

“She’s got a tracking device on my phone and she saw it here, and she’s worried I’m in danger. She told me to stay safe and that a car is coming to pick me up.” she says. His face scrunches in both disbelief and amusement.

“What?” he asks, his accent thicker than ever. “It’s not even dodgy here. You should see the other parts I get around to. And anyways, no one’s gonna touch you if you’re with me.” he says, like it should be very obvious.

She’s very much intrigued.

“Will your mum be mad that you’re drunk?” he asks with a chuckle. She almost spits out her ice cream.

“Oh no!” she exclaims, covering her mouth. He can’t help but admire her innocence.

Soon enough, a sleek silver car pulls up outside the ice cream parlour. He walks her out (“such a gentleman!” she jokes and he looked away to hide his blush) and the car door was opened by her driver before he could. He’s slightly annoyed by that.

“I’ll see you soon, then.” he says with a grin, scratching the back of his head, unsure of how to end the night. Usually, by this point, they’re already rolling around in his sheets, the girl begging him for more. This is completely new to him.

“Yeah. It was a great… not date.” she says with a drunken giggle. He can’t deny how stupid it sounds, and he blushes once more, this time for her to see. He feels so bad, but he knows that dating him will only mean bad news for her. He wants to keep her safe. Yet…

“Yeah. Maybe we can go on another not date some other time.” he says shyly. Okay, he knows he has zero self control, and he can’t help it. Not when she looks like that.

“I look forward to it. You can just text me.” she says with a giggle, and with help of liquid courage, she leaned in and kissed his cheek. A small, chaste peck. It makes his head spin like he drank three bottles of that wine. He smells like cigarettes and she never wanted to pull away. But she does. “Bye.” she says, getting into the car and driving off.


	5. five.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> word count: 1,081

Damien woke up at two in the afternoon, his head throbbing. After Cassie left, he had called up Elliot to bring the lads and meet him at 8Ball’s, their usual pub and billiard’s spot. They drank until the bar closed down, and they had gotten to Tyler’s at around three in the morning, and then drank more shots when they got there.

He followed the smell of pancakes until he got to the kitchen, all the other boys already there. Though they all looked in just as bad shape as him. “He’s alive. Was worried we had to take you to the hospital for a second.” Elliot says with a smirk, flipping a pancake on the pan.

“That smells ace.” Damien says, his voice deep and rough from just waking up.

He sits between Logan and Tyler, two other guys in the family’s business. Logan is Damien’s age and was initiated in at the same time as Elliot, only being two years younger than both of them, the three becoming fast friends. Time spent drinking with Logan is rare, since he often is at home with his three year old son, Louis. Tyler is older, at twenty-five years old, and they like to crash his apartment a lot since his landlord is high half the time and doesn’t care about noise or any illegal substance. They also just generally like being in his apartment, since Tyler’s an artist and there’s always a ton of his own gorgeous art on display at all times. Pax sits at the end, head on the table, looking like absolute death with a beer in his hand. He’s twenty-two years old, and they think he’s an alcoholic. Ever since his girlfriend of five years, Ella, left him for another guy, he’s never been the same. It’s been a year since it happened, and he’s only started drinking more and more. He’s a sweetheart, really, or used to be… he just doesn’t trust that many people anymore But he’s never hungover or drunk on the job, and that’s what’s important.

The five of them are the youngest in the business, and so they get along splendidly.

“Never stop, do you, Pax?” Damien asks, amused.

“Hair of the dog, bro.” he says, raising it slightly in a faux cheers before swinging it back.

Elliot places the chocolate chip pancakes on their individual plates. Extra whipped cream for Logan (with an extra portion to bring home to Louis), extra chocolate chips for Damien, side of fruits for Tyler, and cut into easy to eat shapes for Pax. They all love him very much, and Logan gives Elliot a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

Damien pulls out his phone from his pocket and tries to check his messages, but his phone’s run out of battery. “Checking to see if your girlfriend texted you?” Elliot teases.

Damien glares at him, but Elliot just sticks his tongue out at him. Logan chokes on his pancake and Tyler has to hit him multiple times in the back for him to start calming down. “DAMIEN? GIRLFRIEND?” Logan exclaims between coughs. Pax throws a chunk of pancake at Elliot, calling him a liar.

“She’s _not_ my girlfriend.” Damien says sternly.

“They went on a date last night.” Elliot points out.

“Wasn’t a date.” he says through gritted teeth as the other boys whoop.

“You going soft on me now, are ya, Black?” Tyler asks, clapping his shoulder.

“She’s just some posh girl I’m tryna shag. Nothing more to it.” Damien grumbles. His facade is expertly built, but he doesn’t truly believe his own words. He manages to trick them all, and they all scoff.

“Typical Damien.” Pax says.

“Hey, only typical pre and post Eleanor. She was an anomaly in his life.” Tyler says with a scoff. “I miss her though, she was nice.” he says with a hint of nostalgia.

“Yeah, this girl’s no Eleanor. She’s awful. All high and mighty. She goes to my school, and I can’t stand seeing her everyday. She’s a fucking snitch. I’ve got half a mind to put a bullet through her eyes.” Elliot says with an eye roll. They laugh, Damien doesn’t, but they all know he’s serious.

Damien panics internally, but doesn’t let it show. Never lets it show. “Waste of time, mate. She’s loaded. They’ll probably get a PI and catch you before your barrel even cools.” he says, trying to keep the tremble away from his voice.

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=zj8acw)

“Where’ve you been?” his mother asks as he saunters into their home, dropping his car keys in their usual spot. She doesn’t sound angry, not at all, mostly curious. His father’s making tea in the kitchen, looking at him with a knowing look.

“He probably got laid.” his dad says.

Damien groaned and rolled his eyes. “I didn’t. I went to dinner with a friend last night and got drinks with the lads after. My phone died so I couldn’t text.” he says, walking into the kitchen to grab a cuppa. “Me head’s killing me.”

His mother laughs. “The Parkers saw you at O’Hara’s. Fancy place to bring a friend.” she says.

“Doesn’t matter. She’s posh, takes too much work. I’m probably never gonna see her again.” he says, sipping tea so that he keeps busy. He knows he’s lying, but he’ll never admit it.

“As long as I don’t become a grandmother too soon.” his mother says, and his parents have a laugh.

“By the way, Damien, you have a job today at three. Usual spot.” his dad says. Damien nods, grabbing a chocolate chip cookie to eat with his tea. “Remember: you stop after he gives you what you want. But if he dies,” he says and Damien huffs.

“It’s not my fault he bled out.” Damien finishes, and his dad winks at him knowingly. “I know, I know. I’ve done it enough times.” he says.

And he kind of hates this part of his job. His parents assigned him to be the head of the interrogation department. They say that they don’t trust the job with anyone else. They don't trust them to do it right, to relay all the information given, to be smart enough. They only trust blood for big jobs, and interrogation might be one of the biggest jobs there is in their business. He hates it, all the blood that’s on his hands, but he can’t care that much. If he cares, it makes the job much harder.


	6. six.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible TW in this chapter: explicit violence/torture, inflicting pain on a child as punishment
> 
> word count: 1,200

“Tell me what you know about Prescott.” he says casually into the ear of the man bound to the chair. The man stays silent. They always do at the start. “Okay, I expected you not to speak.” he says, taking one last drag of his cigarette before digging the burnt end on the guy’s chest. He screams in pain. “Don’t worry, this place is soundproof. Scream as much as you’d like, mate.” he says with a cheery smile.

He takes out his knife, his favourite one that he carries around with him at all times that says ‘ _you’re mine_ ’ on the blade. His parents gave it to him on his eleventh birthday. All his weapons are custom-made, all black with engraved words etched in a shimmering gold. His black revolver says ‘ _sucks to be you_ ’, his brass knuckles say ‘ _goodnight_ ’, his silver pistol says ‘ _outrun me_ ’, and those are just his favourites.

He slashes over the man’s cheeks, deep and gushing. He screams in anguish, his tears only making the pain worse. “It’ll go much faster if you just tell me. Plus, I’m hungover and really not in the mood.” he says. When the man only glares at him, he huffs out. He brings the knife up and jams it straight into his thigh, keeping it lodged deep. The man tries to wiggle away, but fails to miserably and only makes the pain worse. He’s breathing heavily as Damien reaches down onto the heavy duffel bag next to him. He pulls out a pair of pliers, and the man stares at the words ‘ _this won’t hurt one bit_ ’.

The man tries to curl his fingers in, but he’s already weak from all the bleeding and going through a lot of pain, so Damien easily grabs his fingers in a tight grip.

Just as he puts a fingernail between the two jaws, he speaks up. “I’ll tell you their names! I will! Please, stop!” the man cries. Damien shakes his head.

“I’m afraid that’s not enough, mate.” he says, clamping down the plier and pulling away forcefully. The main cries out loud once more. “I’ve got a whole bunch of toys with me today. You wanna play?” he asks deviously.

After an hour’s worth of work, he lets the lower levelled members deal with the disposal of the body and the cleaning of the warehouse. He lazily drops his duffel bag in his front seat and slumps in front of his steering wheel, nearly setting it off. He grabs his phone and sends a quick text to his group chat with his mum and dad.

**To: family of the year**

**Damien**

done. on the way home.

 **From: family of the year**  
dad  
good.

**To: family of the year**

**Damien**

can someone buy kfc ?

 **From: family of the year**  
**mum**  
already have some here waiting for you

**To: family of the year**

**Damien**

god bless u guys i love u

 **From: family of the year**  
dad  
as long as you eat your vegetables too!

He chuckles and was about to pocket his phone when he got another message sent in.

 **From: Cassie Hayworth**  
Hi! :) How are you?

If anyone were to say that his heart fluttered, that his palms sweat at the mere sight of her name, and that a smile broke out on his face, he would spit at their feet and call them a liar. Probably put a bullet to their heart.

**To: Cassie Hayworth**

im doin well ! glad to see ur first hangover hasnt killed u yet

 **From: Cassie Hayworth**  
It’s awful! And my parents found out :( I’m never drinking again!

**To: Cassie Hayworth**

its not too bad, u get used to it

And because he’s feeling brave:

**To: Cassie Hayworth**

wanna hang out tonight

He pockets his phone before he could see her reply and drove off home. He doesn’t need a distraction right before he has to relay vital information to his parents. If he gets something wrong, it’ll be him in front of the knife. It’s happened in the past, when he was fourteen, during his training.

The memory floods back to him as the car flies past the suburban neighbourhood.

_“Wrong. He said ten thousand eight hundred and five. You said ten thousand eight hundred and four. You can’t make mistakes. Focus, Damien!” his mother had yelled at him. Fourteen year old Damien had been shadowing his mother’s interrogation, and when it was over and the man was bleeding out in front of them, she asked him for all the information they just received._

_“I’m sorry, mum.” Damien had said, lip trembling and eyes watering._

_“I swear to the powers that be if you shed a single tear, I will strike you right here, right now.” his mum had said. “You must learn from your mistakes. You will never make a mistake again. Come here.” his mum says, calm and stern. Shakily, Damien tries to blink the tears away and walks towards his mother. She grabs his arm in a tight grip and pulls out a knife._

_“No! Please mum!” Damien screams, but one angry glare from his mother silences the child. She grips the knife and slashes it across the then blank arms of Damien, deep and long. Damien screams in pain but doesn’t dare shed a tear. She instantly wraps a clean gauze around it to keep it from bleeding too much, but the gauze instantly becomes red. She simply adds more layers to it._

_“Hopefully you’ve learned your lesson. Come here, son. You did good today.” she said._

Damien lightly touches the scar on his arm as he remembers, his expression blank and neutral. Unreadable. When he gets home, he parks his car and brings the duffel bag inside. He drops it by the kitchen sink and takes out the dirty weapons, all covered in dried blood.

As he begins cleaning his weapons, water turning bright red quickly, his parents walk into the kitchen. Before they ask, Damien starts to tell them everything. His eyes don’t leave his hands as he cleans thoroughly. When he finishes, his father claps him on the back.

“You did good.” he says.

“You always do.” his mum adds proudly.

“Learned from the best.” he says with a small smile.

“When you finish cleaning, your KFC’s on the dining table. It’s already been heated.” his mum says and his parents go back up to their bedroom. When he finishes, he leaves the weapons out to dry and goes into the dining table. As he begins eating, his free hand pulls out his phone.

 **From: Cassie Hayworth**  
That would be lovely!  <3 But I’m grounded for drinking, so come to my place for dinner? :) Wear a nice suit!

His eyes widened as he read that message, reading it over and over again to make sure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. Why would he need a suit just to go to dinner at her house? Will her parents be there? He thought he made it clear they weren’t dating? Although, his stomach turns at that thought. He groans, confused, and let instinct take over.

**To: Cassie Hayworth**

ill be there


	7. seven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible TW in this chapter: branding
> 
> word count: 1,785

He parks his car in front of their large house, feeling significantly more nervous than when he left his house. He and his family have a lot of riches, but it wasn’t like theirs. They have dirty money, blood money. The Hayworths are old money. It makes him nervous.

 **From: E the idiot**  
where the fuck are u ? drinks after the run

**To: E the idiot**

****

cant mate, at a dinner - maybe after

He pockets his phone before Elliot could ask anything else and gets out of his car. He straightens his suit jacket obsessively before walking to the front door. He knocks twice and she opens it with a big smile on her face. 

She wears a red dress with gem stone linings. It looks beautiful, but utterly expensive. He can’t believe this is what she wears around her house. He’s somewhat relieved to see her just as dressed up as he is. A part of him was worried that she was taking the piss at him and he would look like a total fool walking up to her house in a suit. 

“Nice suit… Saint Laurent? Must be expensive.” she says, and then blushes before speaking much quieter, eyes down on the ground. “You know you don’t have to spend money, right? Like… it doesn’t really matter too much.” she says shyly. 

He merely smirks at her guilt. “Oh love, my suits are on the house, or the house burns down.” he says. She stands in shock, but can’t help but feel so attracted to him in the moment, and he knows it. She’s shit at hiding it. “Are you gonna let me in?” he asks. She blushes and nods quickly, stepping aside so he can enter. 

The entire house is absolutely massive. It looks inspired by French chateaus, with two grand spiral staircases meeting at the middle, with a table and some large flowers on top. A crystal chandelier lights up the massive room with large windows going from the high ceilings down to the floors, and his breath hitches. He suddenly feels like his shoes are much too dirty. 

“Nice place.” he says honestly, a small chuckle of disbelief making its way into his words. 

“Thanks.” she says with a blush. “My parents are in the kitchen.” 

They walk together into the large area, and he feels absolutely nervous. Is this going too fast? He knows it’s only because she wanted to hang out but she’s grounded, but still. Meeting the parents over dinner… he’s never done that with any girl before. He doesn’t know what to do. And they’re probably gonna expect some polite, rich kid. _Fuck, I might be in over my head_ , he thinks. 

“Mom, dad, this is Damien.” she says. Her parents, who look like they’re from a painting, both look at him with kind smiles that ease his nerves a little bit. 

“Nice to meet you.” he says, shaking both their hands. 

“Good shake.” her dad says, impressed. 

“Thank you, sir.” he says. So far, so good. If any of his friends saw how he was acting now, they’d collapse on the floor in a heap of laughs and tears. 

“Come help with the chicken.” her mom says nicely. Damien steps forward and grabs the carving knife from her hands, and begins slicing through it expertly, the scent of delicious food wafts over his senses. 

She hums approvingly. “You’re good with a knife.” she says. 

Damien chuckles. “I’ve been told.” he says with a knowing smirk. “My mum’s a great cook. I’ve been helping her in the kitchen since I was young.” he adds to make it seem less suspicious. Not a total lie, either. He knows a recipe or two. 

The night follows with a lot of lies. (“I’m homeschooled”, “My parents just work for a company, nothing special”, “No, I didn’t see it in the news… that’s awful. He just disappeared?”) He doesn’t struggle to keep up with his lies, he’s an expert at keeping his story straight. Has to be if he doesn’t want to be a snitch. 

Yet, he somehow manages to charm her parents. If he’s being honest, he knows he can be extremely charming. Especially around Americans, who instantly melt at his thick accent. But he didn’t know he could trick rich, old parents as well. That’s something he’s never had to do until now. Apparently, there’s a lot that can be hidden behind Saint Laurent. 

After he helps clean up the dishes, he sits in the lounge with Cassie, her parents leaving up to their rooms and giving her a quick smile. “They never leave me alone with a boy…” she says quietly with a blush. “They must really like you.” 

“Yeah, well they don’t know me.” he says with a smirk, taking off his blazer and moving to set it aside on the nearby armchair. 

She glances over and sees his shirt shift. Curiously, she stands where he does. “What’s this?” she asks, touching an old burn mark that says ‘ _BLACK_ ’ at the bottom of his neck. He flinches away like it’s fresh. 

“Nothing.” he says, lump in his throat, adjusting his shirt to cover the branding and quickly turning away from her. 

_“Daddy, no! I don’t want! Daddy!” an eight year old Damien begged, tears streaming down his face. The basement is dark and scares him a lot. The long metal rod with their name glowing at the end after being heated in the fire for a few moments daunted him._

_“Stand still, Damien. You want to be a part of this family, don’t you?” his mother asked as she pinned him down to the table, both his parents bearing the same marks. His little legs thrashed in a panic._

_“I am part of this family, mummy! Please! It will hurt! Mummy!” he begged._

_“Your great granddad started this, don’t you want to be a part of his legacy?” his dad asked. Damien felt the heat begin to radiate as the metal comes closer and closer to his back._

_“Mummy! Daddy!” he screamed, and released a blood-curdling scream when his mum stuck a leather belt between his teeth. He looked around in a panic and yelled between the belt as the heated metal made contact with his skin.  
_

Cassie doesn’t look convinced. “Why can’t you be honest with me?” she asks, sounding genuinely offended. He sighs, meeting her eyes. 

“Because if you knew the truth, you would never wanna see me anymore.” he answers earnestly. 

“That’s not true.” she says, truly believing her own words. 

He shakes his head, rolling his black sleeves up and revealing his tattoos. “I’m just trying to protect you, love. Now, it’s getting a bit too serious for my liking. Pick a film.” he says with a smile. She smiles back at him, glad that he plans to stay for longer. She quickly puts on Goodbye Christopher Robin and sits on the other side of the sofa. He pats the space next to him and she scoots slowly. He chuckles as she still left a space between them, and put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer into him. 

She blushes brightly as she leans her head on his shoulder and almost snuggles into his scent. “You can take a smoke break if you want…” she says slowly when she smells the cigarettes on him. He’s always smoking and has gone nearly four hours without one. She figures that after meeting her parents, he’d be dying for one. 

She feels his chest rumble as he chuckled. “No need, love. Wanna spend time with you.” he says, and she absolutely preens. He smirks down at her and kisses the top of her head, making her blush. “Winnie the Pooh was my favourite thing as a kid.” he says. 

“Didn’t expect that.” she says quietly, trying not to smile too hard and save herself the embarrassment. 

“What were you expecting?” he asks. 

“I don’t know… Transformers or Power Rangers or something…” she says, blushing at her own assumptions. 

He giggles, actually _giggles_. “No, was never that into them. Was a Winnie the Pooh lad. All my clothes were Pooh themed, brought my bear everywhere with me…” he says with a nostalgic smile. He cuddles her closer to him, and his heart sped up when she placed an innocent hand over his thigh. He had absolutely no intentions to intensify their moment, wanted to keep it as it was. Chaste and sweet. He confuses himself with these thoughts. 

_Fuck, I’m in trouble_ , he thinks. 

When the movie ends, Cassie’s a sobbing mess and if he was going to be honest, he was close to shedding a tear as well. But when was he ever honest? 

“That was insane.” she says, wiping her tears with the back of her hand, and consequentially pulling away from him. He almost whines at the loss of her warmth. Almost. 

“I’ll admit, that was scarring to watch. I _just_ told you that Winnie the Pooh was my childhood!” he says in faux hurt, and she laughs at his overdramatic expression. “You’re beautiful.” he says after admiring her for a little bit. 

“Stop.” she says weakly as she blushes hard. 

His mind goes back to his conversation with the boys yesterday and he swallows a lump in his throat. “Hey… maybe you should ease up on Elliot.” he says slowly. Her face contorts to confusion. Before she could ask what he means, Damien speaks up once more. “He’s my best mate. I’d rather you not snitch on him and stuff. Just cut him a bit of slack. Please? For me?” he asks with an impish smile. She studies his features carefully, but she’ll never know the real reason he’s bringing it up. Because he doesn’t want her dead. 

“Yeah okay… sorry.” she says quietly, looking down at her knees. 

“It’s okay, love.” he says with a small laugh. He kisses her left temple, and the smile she gives him sparks a fire in his chest. “When are you free next? I’ll take you to The Black Lion.” he says, leaving behind all his inhibitions. 

She cocks her head to the side. “The club?” she asks. At his confirmation, she looks very uneasy. “I’ve never been to a club… probably after I’m grounded. This weekend?” she asks, and he smiles at her. 

“It’s a date.” he says, and her breath hitches. “Well, not… you know what I mean.” he says, just as nervous as she is. Her heart sinks but nods anyway. 

“I do.” she says in a small, sad whisper. 

He clears his throat to cover his guilt. “I’ll look after you. Don’t worry.” he says. 


	8. eight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible TW in this chapter: drugged, sexual assault, implied/referenced murder
> 
> word count: 1,050

He wakes up groggily. Looking around, he doesn’t know where he is. His Saint Laurent suit is disregarded on the ground, and he wears nothing but his black boxer briefs. His head pounds as he sits up, groaning at the painful feeling. A naked girl lays beside him, and his heart shatters when it’s not Cassie.

He can’t recall anything from last night. One minute he’s in Cassie’s house, having dinner with her family. The next, he’s laying in bed with some unknown slag. He grimaces as he stands, expertly quiet, and quickly puts on his clothes. He sneaks out of her apartment without so much as a creak. He’s done it too many times.

As soon as he gets to his car, he calls Elliot. He doesn’t answer the first time, so he calls again. This time, he picks up after five rings. “What the fuck do you want, Damien?” he asks, sounding like he just woke up and is just as hungover as he is.

“What happened last night?” Damien asks with a grimace, driving down the road at a slower speed than he normally would.

“Fuck, uh…” Elliot says and a rustling of sheets tells Damien he was sitting up. “Um… we had drinks out with the boys. The usual. Think this girl was trying to flirt with you but you weren’t really having it. You kept trying to get away from her but she followed you relentlessly. Last I saw, you tried to get rid of her by going to the toilets. Didn’t see you after that.” he says.

“What the fuck… I don’t remember a damn thing.” Damien says grumpily. He’s been black out drunk, he’s thrown his guts up, he’s been so drunk he thought he was doing permanent liver damage… but he’s never once in his life forgotten what he’s done. “Was it a girl with like straight black hair? Darker skin tone? Reeks of plastic surgery?” he asks, and Elliot snorts.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s her. Why?” he asks.

Damien growls in anger. “Woke up to her this morning. Think I was drugged.” he says, gripping the steering wheel in absolute rage. “I’m gonna kill her.” he says, already beginning to turn his car around and back to her apartment.

Elliot yawns. “Have fun with that. Call me if you need help getting rid of the body.” he says, stretching and moaning in satisfaction. “If I don’t answer, I’m probably asleep. Just keep calling, I’ll wake up eventually.” he says mischievously and hangs the phone up.

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=zj8acw)

Two hours later, Elliot and Damien come bounding into his home, laughing and wrestling each other. “Boys! No wrestling in the house!” Damien’s mum says sternly, but can’t help from looking at them fondly.

“Sorry, Mrs. Black.” Elliot says, ending his laughter and pulling away from Damien’s headlock. “But to be fair, Damien started it.”

“He rubbed a slag’s blood all over my car’s handle!” Damien defends.

“I was helping you out of the goodness of my own heart.” Elliot counters, sauntering in the kitchen with a smug smile.

“What’s happened this time?” his dad asks. “Does this have anything to do with the fact that you haven’t slept in your own bed for two nights in a row?” he asks with a raised brow.

“Was out with the lads after dinner with Cassie and some girl wouldn’t leave me alone. She drugged me and I woke up naked next to her. Obviously I would kill her.” Damien says, grabbing an orange from the fruit basket and starts to peel it.

“Good call. You better have erased your tracks well.” his dad says warningly.

“When do we not?” Elliot asks with an impish smile, stuffing his face into a cookie.

“Wait… dinner with Cassie. How did that go? Did you meet her parents?” his mum asks with brimming curiosity. Elliot almost choked on his cookie. His dad slaps his back until he starts breathing normally again.

“DINNER WITH CASSIE AND HER PARENTS? _THAT_ WAS THE DINNER YOU WERE AT?!” Elliot exclaims in shock, crumbs still down his chin.

Damien glares at his mum, who just giggled knowingly by the sofa. “Yes, all part of the plan.” he lies between grit teeth.

“I reckon you just fancy her.” his dad says, and Damien blushes brightly.

“He’s blushing! You’re right!” his mum says with a laugh. “Same girl that he took to O’Haras.” she says and Elliot almost chokes at the mention of the fancy restaurant.

“Finally! I’ve had enough of these random girls coming in and out of the house in your desperate attempt to get over Eleanor.” his dad says with a grimace.

“What’s her house like?” Elliot asks. “Did you steal something worth anything?” he asks excitedly. Damien just rolls his eyes.

“Straight out of Marie Antoinette. Proper fancy. It’s crazy, and absolutely massive. The air inside was probably worth stealing. Her parents are easy to fool, but they’re good people.” Damien says, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes. “She’s just so beautiful.” he says, and all their jaws drop. Before they can say another word, his eyes open again. “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t want her getting involved with the likes of me. Of us.” he says, looking all of them in their eyes.

They look at him in mock offence. “ _We’re_ good people too!” Elliot says.

“I pay taxes!” his dad says.

“I pause at stop signs!” his mum says.

Damien rolls his eyes and chuckle at them. “Bugger off. But it stands. Yeah, I fancy her. But that’s all it’s ever gonna be. I’m probably just gonna move on and shag some girl that _won’t_ drug me, hopefully. Just pretend like this never happened.” he grumbles. “This never would have happened if your stupid arse didn’t get adopted into a posh family!” he accuses, pointing at Elliot, who held his hands up in surrender.

“Wasn’t up to me.” he says, sticking his tongue out at him. “But anyways, I’ll support whatever decision you make. And just for you, I won’t kill her.” he says with an eye roll.

“Kill her?” his dad asks.

“She’s a cunt to me! Makes me go to class.” Elliot says with a pout.

“Oh, the horrors.” his mum says with a scoff.


	9. nine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible TW in this chapter: use of firearm
> 
> word count: 1,625

Damien sits in the corner of the dance studio’s floor, his legs crossed over each other as he holds the phone connected to the overhead speakers in his hand. He watches with pride as his best friend creates a new routine in front of the large mirror, shirtless body glistened with sweat.

His head rolls back to the beat and his leg kicks all the way up exactly as a drum hits. He moves in perfect synchronisation to the music, feeling it in his bones. He swan dives perfectly to the ground and rolls away like it was nothing. He makes incredibly difficult dance moves look easy, body looking light as a feather as he moves. As the song fades away, he ends on the floor, hands by his sides. Damien stops the music and claps excitedly.

“Looks sick.” he says proudly.

Elliot smiles at him, and pants heavily as he walks over to his water bottle, chugging down half of its contents. “Thanks.” he says as he recovers, grabbing his nearby towel and wiping his face dry. He sits next to Damien and finishes his water quickly.

Elliot’s been dancing since he was four. He’s never been formally trained, but it doesn’t show in his movement. He has perfect technique and incredible creativity. Anyone who watches him would think he’s a professional. His favourite genre is contemporary, but excels in hiphop, breakdance, jazz, and swing. Not many people know of his dancing capabilities. Really, only Damien and Logan. The orphanage found out, and tried to use it to advertise him to families, but they don’t really appreciate his skill. It was all marketing.

“So… what about this whole Cassie thing?” Elliot asks. Damien huffs, groaning loudly and collapsing to lay down on his best friend’s lap. The younger boy just laughs, combing through Damien’s hair to calm him down. “Can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner. Honestly, I feel betrayed.”

Damien sighs. “I like her, I really do. Like proper like her. Not like the others, you know? I can see a future with her, I think she’s absolutely brilliant.” he says with a gleam in his eye. “But… with the family business and all… I just don’t wanna involve her. She’s too good for it. And like, it’s so dangerous. What if one of our enemies finds out about her? Then she’ll be a target, a way to be able to torment me or bait me in. I’m telling you, it’s no good.” he says with a frustrated huff.

Elliot looks down at him softly. “Listen… I hear you, I do. And I understand the danger, and how that’s completely scary. But if you really like her, and if you can see a future with her, then you’re going to have to suck it the fuck up. You know we’ll keep her safe, you’ll keep her safe.” he says, and Damien hums in consideration. It’s true. The Blacks have high end security and men everywhere; on the lookout, guarding, and armed. “I’ve never seen you so careful about anyone. That must mean something. She must really be special.” he says. “Haven’t seen you this gone since Eleanor.” Elliot says.

“You just get me.” Damien says in appreciation, Elliot laughing and playing peek-a-boo with him.

“Remember the night we met? By the pier?”

Damien smiles fondly. “Yeah, feels like a lifetime ago…”

 _Elliot, seventeen years old, was walking the streets of Chicago. He was just returned back to the orphanage for the second time within the year, and just needed some air. It’s not that he cares per se, but it does take a toll on your self esteem eventually. All these families that hated him enough to return him like he’s damaged goods._ I probably am _, he thought bitterly. Well, he’ll be eighteen soon, and if he isn’t adopted by then, he’ll be able to just try and survive alone. No family, no friends. He preferred it that way. Nobody would be able to hurt him. Honestly, he hasn’t been the same since Rockford last year. Even the orphanage noticed._

_He shuddered at the memory and just kept walking, braving the biting chill. He eventually found himself by the water, making the air much colder. A boy that looked around his age was sat on the edge, cigarette hanging between his teeth and looking out thoughtfully._

_“Hey man, can I bum one?” he had asked, approaching the guy. The boy turned around and nodded, handing him one from his pack and his red lighter. “Thanks.” he said. He was about to walk away, but the boy spoke up._

_“Do you wanna sit? Could use the company.” he said, his accent thick and taking Elliot aback._

_“Sure.” Elliot said shyly, sitting next to the boy._

_“I’m Damien.” he said._

_“Elliot.”_

_They sat in silence for a few minutes, just smoking and enjoying the presence of another person. It was weird. They didn’t know each other in any way, but Elliot felt a pull to the boy. Since he came back from Rockford, he hasn’t exactly been trying to make friends. He alienates himself at the orphanage, and generally kept away from other people. So it was weird how he found himself actually enjoying this stranger’s— Damien’s— presence. Damien felt the same way. Elliot made him feel somewhat calmer, though he didn’t really know why. He figures that he just looks like someone who would understand him._

_“What brings you here?” Damien asked._

_Elliot shrugged. “Needed air. Honestly, I’ve just had enough of my room. It’s cramped and my roommates always suck. Once one leaves, a worse one replaces him.” he said with a grimace._

_“Do you go to uni?” he asked, and Elliot shook his head, taking another drag from his cigarette._

_“Leighton Institute for Orphaned Children.” he said. He surprised himself once more. This is probably the most, and most openly, he’s spoken to someone since Rockford._

_“Ah. That sucks. About the roommate thing, I mean.” Damien said, and that was that. They sit in silence again for a little bit, before Elliot noticed the gun poking out of Damien’s coat._

_“What’s that for? You gonna off yourself or something?” Elliot asked, pointing at the gun._

_Damien looked shocked at the question, but when he figures out what the boy was referring to, just laughed. He shook his head and took the gun out. Elliot didn’t even flinch, wasn’t scared for a second. “No, none of that. Just some target practice.” he said, pointing at the end of the long pier, where various bottles and cans were lined up on old boxes._

_“Never seen a gun in real life before.” Elliot said._

_“Wanna hold it?” Damien asked, and Elliot thought for a second or two before nodding. In hindsight, Damien would never have given his beloved firearm to just any stranger, but again, he’s never felt this pull towards someone before. Like they were meant to be best friends. “Safety’s on so you’ll be okay.” he said._

_Elliot inspected the gun in his hand and laughed as he read the words ‘sucks to be you’ etched on the barrel. “It’s heavier than what I thought it would be.” he said, and Damien smiled at him._

_“You can try shoot if you want.” Damien said, pointing towards the bottles. He taught Elliot quickly how to operate the gun and they both stood up, Elliot lining himself up. He took a deep breath, nervous and shaky, before raising the firearm. He took off the safety with his thumb, just like how Damien taught, and aimed it at the middle bottle. He stills his shaking hand before pulling the trigger. He jumped slightly at the loud noise and the kickback, but cheered in triumph when the bullet shattered the bottle. He kept shooting, and hit six targets out of eight shots._

_Damien watched, impressed. “This your first time shooting?” he asked. Damien was nowhere near as good with a gun his first time, but he was also around seven years old. Elliot nods, quite proud of himself, and smiling genuinely for the first time in nearly a year. “Mate, you should meet my parents. I think they could hook you up with a job if you want. It’ll get you out of that small room you hate so much.” he said, already texting his parents about the random orphan he found that’s just as good as he is with a gun._

_“Yeah? That sounds cool.” he said with a grin, putting the safety back and handing the gun back to Damien. They exchange numbers quickly and Elliot shoves his hands back in his pockets.“It’s fucking freezing.” he said, seeing the smoke coming out of his breath._

_Before Damien can say anything else, they hear a man yell at them with a flashlight. “Fuck, cops! Let’s bounce!” Damien exclaims. Elliot, confused but loving the adrenaline rush, follows Damien as he runs quickly, weaving through small streets like he’s done it a million times before._

_Elliot laughed as he finally felt alive, for the first time in so fucking long. In his excitement, even though they were already safe from the cop, he kept running, colliding into the already slowing down Damien. He knocks the boy over. They heard a loud crack as Damien landed at the bottom of the flight of stairs, and Elliot began to panic. He ran over to him, but when he got there, Damien was just laughing. He just told Elliot it was fine and that he’s been through worse. They've best friends ever since._

_Later that night, Damien’s parents brought him to the emergency room for a broken arm._


	10. ten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> word count: 1,428

Damien sits with Tyler and Pax in the reserved room of the bar Damien’s parents owned, all bored after hearing the hundredth plea for their recruitment. “Next!” they could hear Elliot call from outside. When the door opens, Elliot was shown to be equally as bored with a cigarette between his teeth. He’s probably sick of all the eager teenagers and hardened criminals that think they’re all that. All just trying to get a spot in the Black organisation.

A boy walks in with a goofy haircut and big teeth. They take one look at him and try not to laugh. Tyler instantly goes back to sketching expertly on the spare napkin he found and Pax brings his full attention back to his drink. “Name?” Damien asks.

“The Phantom.” the goofy boy says, and Pax chuckles in the corner.

“The Phantom…” Damien says slowly, a small mocking smirk playing on his lips.

“Yeah.” he says with an impish smile. He pulls away his jacket and shows a holster. Instantly, Pax and Tyler stop laughing and pull out their guns, taking off the safety and pointing it straight at him. It all happened within half a second.

“No, it’s plastic! It’s fake, it’s a toy!” he exclaims in defence. “My young sister’s good with sewing… made the holster.”

Damien laughs but Tyler and Pax remain unmoving. Damien stands and picks the toy gun up from the holster, Tyler and Pax laugh then. “Bang.” Damien says and pretends to shoot it at Tyler, who pretends to shoot back with his very much real and loaded gun. “Bang.” Damien says, pointing at Pax, whose head tilts back in fake death, smoke from his cigarette releasing from his lips. “Nice.” Damien says, giving it back to the boy and sitting down once more.

“You ever been arrested?” Damien asks, and he shakes his head. Tyler scoffs.

“Get out of here, kid.” he says, and the boy looks crushed, but Damien holds a hand up.

“You’re the only one that’s come in here without a criminal record. About fucking time. We have some items that need to get shipped to Portland. Our usual girl is currently… unreachable.” he says.

“No cell reception six feet under.” Pax says with a chuckle, making Tyler laugh. Damien pays them no mind, but the boy looks a little bit nervous. Her death was actually very sad, and everyone in the organisation mourned. But everyone deals with pain differently.

“We need someone undetectable. Unsuspecting. You’re perfect for that. Better to drive than fly, but that’s your choice. Just don’t you dare lose the products, or you’ll pay us the $700,000 back. We’ll pay you $600 for your trouble. Give your address to Elliot outside, and we’ll be in contact.” Damien says, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

The boy looks excited as he absorbed all the information given and exits the room. Mere seconds after, Elliot sticks his head into the room. “This Phantom kid? Really?” he asks with a raised brow. All the boys laugh and shrug at him.

“He’ll do the shipping to Chicago.” Damien says, taking a sip of the beer in front of him. “He’s a good kid. Don’t get his younger sister involved. Just the one job and it’s done. He’s not permanent. No marking.” he says.

They meet man after man after man, all subpar to the boys. They think just because they’ve spent time in jail that they’re a shoe-in for the company. That just goes to show how they’ll never be a part of it. They’re about ready to throw the towel in when a girl walks in. She’s beautiful and confident, and looks like she could kill you without a second thought.

They all smile instantly. “Name?” Damien asks.

“Rose Williams.” she says, and Damien smiles even wider when he hears her accent.

“You from Manchester?” he guesses and she nods. “Good. Love a Northerner. Have had enough Americans coming around here.” he says. She smiles at him and Tyler pretends to be offended, Pax throwing an unlit cigarette at him in faux-anger. He catches it without even looking and tucks it behind his ear. “You know my family then?” he asks.

“I know them well.” she says.

“So you know we don’t like wasting time.” he says. “What can you offer us?”

“Do you know the Weston Park Heist in Sheffield?” she asks, he nods once in acknowledgement. Of course he knew it. It was a carefully done, full-proof plan that left his parents groaning that they didn’t think of it sooner. The museum was robbed of over four million pounds, and the thieves managed to leave undetected completely. Not a single lead in two years. “That was me.”

“I’m a big fan of your work.” Damien says. “Give your address to Elliot outside. We’ll be in touch.” he says. She nods and leaves, and Pax whoops as soon as she leaves.

“Intelligent, beautiful, a criminal…” Pax says, slumping down with a wide smile on his face. “I think I’m in love.”

Damien raises his eyebrows, eyes widening in shock. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. Pax hasn’t spoken like that about any girl since Ella. Tyler just looks at him with furrowed brows and a slight pout.

When he gets home, Patrick is already in their living room. Damien nods in acknowledgment to his friend before raising an eyebrow at his parents, who are both looking at a file in his mum’s hands. “Come here.” his dad says. He does what he’s told and respectfully waits for them to speak before he does.

“Rose Williams?” his dad asks. Damien nods.

He looks at the case report Patrick made, one he makes for anyone they ask. It has all the information. Birth, address, former relationships, family sicknesses, what grocery you shop at. Anything there is to know, will be in that file.

“I like her. Loyal, smart… Weston Park…” his mum says slowly. “And we could always use more women in the business. More brains that way.” she says with a smirk, and neither of the men tried to argue, not a single peep. “We’ll get her to do a job for us. If we like what we see, we’ll bring her in.” she says, his dad nodding at her words. He touches the brand on his neck at what she says. It’s one of the worst parts of the job, he reckons. It’s usually Logan who has to put the brand on new members, because he’s the only one who doesn’t flinch at their screams. He can get the word on there straight. No matter how tough they are, how much pain and suffering they’ve been through, they always cry.

“Did you get someone to cover Holly’s job for Chicago?” his dad asks.

“Yes.” Damien answers. “I’ve also let her family know that we’ve set up a fund for them.” he says, eyes down on the ground in respect. Holly was a good woman, great at her job. Her death was unfortunate for everyone.

“Good lad.” his dad says, clapping him on the back.

Damien steps away from his parents and sits by Patrick on the couch. The man looks tired and his scruff is unkempt. He has dark bags under his eyes and looks like he hasn’t slept in days. “You look awful.” Damien teases.

Patrick just snorts at him. “Yeah, well, Rose is a very private person. Hardest one so far to draw up a file for.” he says, running a hand through greasy, unwashed hair. “Did it eventually though. Always do.” he says, a little bit cheekier.

“That’s why you’re the best.” Damien says with a shrug.

“I don’t get paid enough.” Patrick says and Damien fake-punches his arm. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while now— but who was that girl you were with outside O’Haras?” he asks in genuine curiosity, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

Damien shifts uncomfortably, a possessive fire burning through his stomach. “Why do you wanna know?” he asks suspiciously.

“She’s hot.” Patrick says without shame. “Wanna wreck her innocence.”

Damien growls low in his throat, low enough so Patrick couldn’t hear. “Hands off, Pat. She’s off-limits.” he says.

“I thought you said she was just your friend?” he asks with a raised brow. Damien clears his throat.

“She is.” he lies between his teeth.

“Then she’s not off-limits.” Patrick says with a smirk.


	11. eleven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible TW in this chapter: unwanted sexual advancements, explicit violence
> 
> word count: 1,996

Cassie is utterly nervous. She’s never been to a club before. She spent two hours researching online what people wore and decided she had absolutely nothing that fit the category. She asked Lucy, but she wasn’t much help. Nervously, she settles for a white pleated skirt and a flowing blouse tucked in with a few flowers on it. She puts on her highest heels, only three inches, and takes a deep breath, looking at her reflection in the mirror.

She’s barely spoken to Damien after the dinner, which makes her even more nervous. What if he’s getting over her? She puts on an extra coating of mascara to ease her tension. Soon enough, she hears his car pull in front of her gates. She had told him not to ring the doorbell or get out of his car because she’ll be sneaking out. She couldn’t tell her parents she was going to a club! That would be mad!

She quietly makes her way out of her house, going virtually undetected. When she hops into his car, she could feel him looking her up and down. She pretends not to notice. He almost swoons at how inappropriately dressed she is. He wants to keep it that way.

“You look good, love.” he says, pulling out of her driveway. “Oh! I saw this at a shop, and thought you’d look great in it.” he says, pulling out a brand new pink flower crown from his back seat. Her eyes light up instantly and she puts it on her perfect locks. It looks like she was born with it on. “Beautiful.” he says with a smile before turning his attention back to the road. Mostly so his blush won’t be too obvious.

She leans forward and kisses his cheek, making him blush brighter, yet his expression remained neutral.

“Thank you, I love it.” she says. “You shouldn’t have to buy things for me though. I don’t want you spending your money on me.” she adds with a hint of guilt in her voice.

“Who said I paid?” he asks with a cocked eyebrow. But he did, though.

She gasped and slapped his arm. “Hey, don’t hit the driver!” he says seriously, but remembers that she doesn’t know the strict rules his family’s organisation has, and so added a laugh at the end so she knew he wasn’t really mad at her.

“Sorry.” she says quickly, and it’s a good thing he’s sitting down because if he was standing up, his knees would instantly shake from her obedience.

“Am I allowed to wear this to the club?” she asks, touching the flower crown slightly.

“When you’re with me, you can wear anything you want.” he says. “More importantly, what I want.” he says with a smirk. She whimpers and glances up at him behind long lashes.

“And what do you want me to wear?” she asks quietly.

His mind goes wild, but he just looks at her with a smile. “Anything you want.” he says, and her heart flutters.

When they arrive at the club, there’s a queue that goes behind the block. “That’s a long line.” she says, suddenly feeling self-conscious when she sees all the women in skin-tight outfits and their large breasts out.

“We don’t queue.” he says, taking her hand in his and bringing her to the front. Her heart skips a beat. She tries to ignore all the glares of the women as they walk past with entwined fingers. Everyone wants Damien, but she’s the one that has him. She holds her head higher at the thought.

As soon as the bouncer sees him, he instantly lets them through. Her jaw drops. Inside, it’s crowded and dark. There’s loud music and bright lights everywhere, and it smells strongly of booze. She already feels a little uncomfortable and walks closer to his side. He smiles down at her and wraps his arm around her waist.

“You really are beautiful.” he yells over the music into her ear.

“Thank you.” she says shyly, blushing even darker when he kisses her cheek. He leads them to the middle of the bar.

“Fuck off.” he tells the two men sitting on the stools calmly. They look up, annoyed and ready to fight. But the second they see him, they scamper off whilst mumbling apologies. She doesn’t ask questions as he sits her down on the stool.

“Two shots of Whiskey, Irish.” he tells the bartender, who nods and gets right to serving them over the people who have been waiting for a drink for much longer than them. “What do you want, princess?” he asks her. She goes weak at the nickname, and he smirks.

“Just a soda’s fine for now.” she says. “Sprite?” she says shyly, looking up at him with a small smile.

“You heard her.” he barks at the bartender, who brings it over right away. “I’m gonna go to the toilet quickly. If anyone touches you, you tell them you’re with me. You get rid of them. Can you do that for me, babe?” he asks. She nods nervously but sips on the straw to stop her lips from trembling. He leaves a small kiss on her forehead before leaving.

She looks around with an uneasy stomach. She feels everyone staring, either in lust or envy. She touches her flower crown slightly to comfort her. A few seconds of peace pass before a man, who reeks of rum and burgers, sits in Damien’s spot. She feels a protectiveness over the seat, yet cowers back slightly, pulling her skirt down.

“Hello there, gorgeous. What you doing all alone in a place like this?” he asks with a wicked smile. His teeth are yellowing and his breath makes her want to puke. Her stomach curls into knots at his cliche words.

“I’m with Damien.” she says, her voice shaky.

“I don’t believe you.” he says with a smirk. “You’re not the kind of girl Damien Black takes interest in. Why are you lying? You tryna get away from me, darling?” he asks, placing a hand on her thigh. She wiggles away uncomfortably and wants to cry. He’s looking at her in the same way Patrick did when she first met him outside the restaurant.

“You stay away from her, Frank. That’s Damien’s girl.” the bartender warns him with a low voice. The so-called Frank turns his attention to the bartender ever so slightly.

“No way.” Frank says drunkenly with a laugh. The bartender only shakes his head and continues to serve a woman on the other side of the bar. Better not to get involved.

Frank pushes his hand higher up her thigh, and she tenses up in fear, unable to move. She’s on the brink of tears, she wants to turn around and run but she can’t even twitch away. She’s terrified to her core. Maybe Lucy was right, maybe she shouldn’t have come.

Before Frank could open his mouth again, Damien comes out of nowhere and punches him straight in the jaw. His head smashes against the bar and it wakes Cassie up from her paralysis. She panics, standing up and backing away. “What the fuck are you doing with my girl, mate?” he asks the man, his voice teasing and light with a cutting undertone of intimidation. Cassie hates how her heart bursts at his words, despite the situation in front of her.

Other people notice, but nobody says anything. Nobody dares to look Damien in the eye. “I d-didn’t know she was your girl…” he says, clutching his bloody mouth.

“Did she not tell you?” he asks, and the man keeps quiet. At that, Damien finds new rage. He picks the man up by his collar and slams him onto the ground, left hand keeping him down and right hand bashing his face in relentlessly.

“I. Fucking. Hate. Liars.” he grunts, stomach-churning sounds of breaking bones emphasising each word. The man’s face is unrecognisable and completely covered in blood. His eyes are sealed shut and his nose is not where it should be. Damien stands up and steps a heavy foot on his wrist. The man screams in pain as his bone dislocates and breaks in half. “As a reminder to never touch what’s mine again.” he says, spitting on the man before turning back to Cassie. Two bouncers take the profusely injured man away and it’s as if it never happened.

“Come on.” he tells Cassie, grabbing her wrist and leading her to one of the backrooms of the club. Once there, and with the door closed, the music is immediately muffled. A silence wafts between them and Damien goes over to the other side of the room; pacing while clutching his hair, deep in thought. She glances down at the wrist he let go of, the sleeve of her blouse slightly stained with blood from his open knuckles.

“CASSIE! Why? Why didn’t you fight him off more?” he asks in desperation, slight tears forming in his eyes. She looks up at him in confusion. “Why?” he asks, moving towards her and grabbing her face in his hands.

“I tried… I was scared.” she says, shaking slightly.

“Of course you were, I’m sorry.” he says, leaning his forehead on hers. It’s not everyday Damien apologies, but this just rolls out of his tongue so naturally. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I shouldn’t have left you. I promised to take care of you.” he says ruefully, kissing the tip of her nose. “Now you’ve seen me.” he says, voice low and breaking her heart.

“I don’t care.” she says, but he just shakes his head.

“No, you should. I nearly beat him to death and I didn’t even care. All I could think about was his hand on your thigh. I’m a fucking monster, Cassie. Now you know.” he says. “I mean look! You snuck out just to be with me tonight, in a place where you shouldn’t be. I’m bad for you.” he says and she shakes her head stubbornly.

“I don’t care.” she repeats.

“You don’t understand. The Black name is big. Our family business has always been crime, for generations. Me mum and dad made some enemies, so they made a huge plan to raid a bunch of headquarters, then bomb their own place to make it look less suspicious. They moved to America to bring their business _here_.” Damien says. “I’m telling you, I’m dangerous. My entire family, my friends— they’re all dangerous. Being around us, around me, is going to get you hurt. Cassie, I can’t have that. You’re too good for this, for me.”

She looks stunned, attempting to process all the information. She brings her emerald green eyes to lock into his begging grey ones. “I don’t care. I want to be with you, I don’t care about the risks.” she says, and he shakes his head in disbelief.

“No, you’re not listening, Cassie. I’ve torn out eyeballs and fingernails, peeled back their skin slowly, stabbed men in the heart who didn’t deserve it. I’ve tortured to the point where I’ve become their god. I’ve kept men in boxes half their size with a hole the size of a quarter for breath, giving only a few drops of water a day. Do you know what that does to a man? I made them lose their minds. If I gave them a fork, they would try to stab themselves without thought. I’m a bloody monster.”

She swallows a lump in her throat, but the pain in his eyes tells her enough. “You’re not a monster. A real monster wouldn’t feel remorse.” she says before she leans forward and catches his lips in hers. He kisses back with a ferocity, passionate and full of longing. When they pull apart, he hugs her tightly into him.

“You’re an idiot.” he says. “I’ll protect you. I would take your life over mine any day.”


	12. twelve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> word count: 1,543

**To: LADS LADS LADS**

****Damien** **

****

so i think cassie and i are official 

**From: LADS LADS LADS**  
**E the idiot**  
everyone knew that tho 

******From: LADS LADS LADS ******  
**E the idiot**  
like this is not news 

********

**To: LADS LADS LADS**

********** **

**Damien**

********** **

yes it is :(

************From: LADS LADS LADS****  
**logan (sometimes louis)**  
Congratulations!!  <3 Very happy for you both :) 

************From: LADS LADS LADS****  
**P-dawg**  
nah i’m with elliot on this - not surprised 

************From: LADS LADS LADS****  
**tyler the creator**  
cUuUUuuUUUUUtEe 

**To: LADS LADS LADS**

********** **

**Damien**

********** **

thank u to logan and tyler and only logan and tyler 

********** **

**To: LADS LADS LADS**

********** **

**Damien**

********** **

<3<3<3

********** **

**To: LADS LADS LADS**

********** **

**Damien**

********** **

no hearts for the rest of u

************From: LADS LADS LADS****  
**E the idiot**  
wait i want hearts :( :( 

************From: LADS LADS LADS****  
**P-dawg**  
MEAN AF 

************From: LADS LADS LADS****  
**logan (sometimes louis)**  
hehe  <3 

************ ** **

************From: LADS LADS LADS****  
**tyler the creator**  
picking up from mary’s, anyone else want some? 

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**To: LADS LADS LADS**

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********** **

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**Damien**

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********** **

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don’t get for elliot and pax

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********From: LADS LADS LADS** ** ** **

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********E the idiot** ** ** **

DONT U DARE DEPRIVE ME OF ICE CREAM 

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************From: LADS LADS LADS****  
**P-dawg**  
he wouldn’t, he’s too nice 

******************** ** ** ** ** ** **

************From: LADS LADS LADS****  
**tyler the creator**  
fucking watch me 

************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

************From: LADS LADS LADS****  
**logan (sometimes louis)**  
louis wants chocolate chip :) 

****

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=zj8acw)

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Cassie leans against her locker, Lucy right next to her. “What was it like?” Lucy asks, half in curiosity, half in judgement. 

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“Loud.” Cassie says honestly, knowing better than to tell her what happened that night. “But it was fun. Damien’s a gem… I think he’s mine now.” she says with the biggest smile, biting down on her lower lip to keep herself from squealing in delight. 

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“You don’t want to be messing with the wrong crowd…” Lucy warns with knitted brows. “He’s bad news. He’s the one that hangs around Elliot.” 

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“Elliot’s not bad…” she says slowly, remembering what Damien told her that night he had dinner at her home. “Anyways, I trust him.” 

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Lucy clicks her tongue, unconvinced. “I’ve heard rumours. Bad ones.” she says. “Some gang business Elliot’s a part of. If he does it, Damien’s sure to as well.” she says, and Cassie tries not to give away the fact that she knows the secret. “Just be careful.” 

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“I’m always careful, Lucy.” she says as they walk to leave the school. 

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“Yeah, whatever. Where’s your car?” Lucy asks, looking around the parking lot. Cassie smiles at her innocently. 

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“Damien drove me. He’s right there to pick me up.” she says, waving to the end of the lot where Damien is stood by his car, smoking a cigarette. He smiles when he sees her and puts the cigarette out instantly. 

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“Listen… he’s cute, he’s got that whole bad boy appeal. I get it. He’s hot. But just _please_ don’t be too trusting.” Lucy says. 

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“I can take care of myself.” Cassie says lightly, bounding down the steps. “I’ll see you at cheer tomorrow!” she exclaims, almost skipping to Damien. She feels possessive as girls start to look curiously and lustfully at Damien. They all want a little taste of his rebellion. 

****

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She walks quickly and stops right in front of him, smiling up at the boy. He pulls her in by her waist, connecting their chests together. She feels a sense of pride at his equal amount of protectiveness, wanting to show all the girls there that he’s already taken. He ducks down and kisses her deeply. 

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“Damien, people are watching…”she warns, but can’t help but smile anyway. 

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“I know, babe. Just giving them something to watch.” he says, nipping at her neck. “Besides, I don’t like the way they’re looking at me.” he says. 

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****

She giggles and kisses his cheek. He opens the passenger door for her and she gets into his car. Once he’s in the driver’s seat and starts up the car, he places a hand on her thigh, right below her skirt. It’s like what the man in the club did, but it feels right with Damien. She wants this with him. Her heart flutters. 

****

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[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=zj8acw)

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Cassie lays on top of Damien, vintage Polaroid camera in hand. He tries to cover the lens but she’s too quick. She takes a photo of him laughing and looking away, his tattoos all on display with his shirt disregarded on the floor. “Cassie!” he says with a laugh, flipping her over so he’s on top of her. She’s still fully clothed in her school uniform, although he is just in his black joggers. Her hand grazes over his toned torso, eyes meeting his. “When will you stop taking photos?” he asks with a teasing smile. 

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“Never. You’re beautiful, it deserves to be documented.” she says. He shakes his head at her and ducked down to kiss her. When he pulls away, she keeps him close. “Thank you.” she says. 

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“For what? That kiss?” he asks with a laugh. She shakes her head. 

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“For not pressuring me into anything. I know that… it’s hard for you. And you’re being so patient just to keep me comfortable. Thank you.” she says. 

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“I’d never make you do anything you don’t want to do.” he says. She bites her lip in thought. 

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“I dated my old boyfriend for a year and a half, and he was upset that I wouldn’t sleep with him.” she says, and he cocks her head to the side. 

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“You saying you’re gonna make me wait a year and _seven_ months?” he asks with a laugh. She thinks about it, but shakes her head. 

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“I couldn’t resist you for that long. He wasn’t as good looking as you. Not even close.” she says. 

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He smirks. “Posh girls love a bit of rough.” he says, and she responds by treading her hand dangerously low. He lets out a low growl from the back of his throat. “Don’t tease me, baby. I won't stay a gentleman for long if you keep it up.” he warns, biting her neck lightly, making her close her eyes in pleasure. 

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“Knock knock!” Elliot says as he opens the bedroom door, Cassie yelping in surprise. Damien collapses in defeat next to her neck, Cassie feeling more embarrassed than she’s ever felt in her life, wanting nothing more than for the world to swallow her whole. Damien doesn’t care, he just rolls over and looks at Elliot with a glare. 

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Elliot sits on the other end of Damien’s bed and taking off his uniformed blazer, lighting a cigarette as he does. 

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“We were busy.” Damien says, and Cassie tries not to blush when he said ‘we’. She fails, and opts to stand up quickly and go straight into Damien’s bathroom, unable to look Elliot in the eye. Damien looks at the door and shakes his head before turning his attention back to his best friend. “Great going, you idiot.” Damien grunts, kicking Elliot’s leg. 

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The boy just laughs and they make peace after Elliot offers him a cigarette. Damien sits next to him. “What you doing here then?” he asks, taking a huff. 

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Elliot shrugs. “Logan’s gonna mark Rose now. She did splendid in the heist against Michaels. He’s gonna need us to help him keep her still.” he says, and Damien nods. “That Rose girl really is different, huh? She’s smarter… I don’t know if I can trust her. She seems a bit… I don’t know. Aloof.” he says thoughtfully, eyebrows scrunched. 

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“My mum and dad trust her, so I trust her.” Damien simply says. 

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“Right…” Elliot says slowly. He glances over and picks up the Polaroid, smiling down at it. “Don’t remember the last time you’ve smiled in a photo. Or been in a photo.” he says. 

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Damien smirks. “You know me. No traces.” he says, turning back to face the bathroom door. “Love, come back out.” he says, voice firm and strong without having to yell in the slightest. 

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Cassie flinches from behind the door, arousal spreading through her body. She peaks her head out in embarrassment, but Elliot doesn’t laugh at her like she thought he would. With some confidence, she walks out and immediately sits next to Damien, hiding her face in his side. He doesn’t think it’s good enough and he picks her up easily and sets her down on his lap. She blushes as her heart leaps forward. 

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“Elliot, Logan, and I have some business to attend to.” he tells her, and she nods in understanding slightly. Elliot just carries on smoking like he’s not in the room. “Do you need me to drive you home?” he asks. She shakes her head. 

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“Car’s already outside.” she says. “I’ll see you tonight?” she asks. He nods and gives her a gentle kiss. He quickly puts on the first shirt he finds and the three of them bound downstairs. Rose and Logan, with Louis on his hip, are already in the living room. 

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Damien walks Cassie out to her car, and kisses her goodbye before the driver closes her door. When he goes back inside, Logan is already leading both Rose and Elliot into their basement. She looks apprehensive behind her stony demeanour. 

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	13. thirteen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible TW in this chapter: branding
> 
> word count: 1,228

The basement is dark and daunting as Logan starts the furnace up. “What’s that for?” Rose asks without a single tremble in her voice. Elliot gathers the iron rod that haunts Damien to this day and hands it over to Logan.

“Tradition.” Damien says. She eyes the iron that Logan is heating up in the furnace and stars visibly worrying.

“You’re crazy!” she says, moving to walk back to the door, but Damien stops her calmly.

“You wanna be a Black, this is what we do.” he says.

“Bull-fucking-shit.” she spits. Damien growls and turns, yanking down the back collar of his shirt. She eyes the scar on the base of his neck, proudly sporting the word. She freezes in fear as Damien faces her once more.

“Got mine when I was eight. Elliot’s got it, Logan’s got it. My mum, my dad, Tyler, Pax, Patrick, whoever else you fucking met at Michaels’. Everyone’s got it, and now you will too.” he says, gently leading her to the wooden table, and she’s shaking hard. They all do.

She damn near jumps when Elliot hands her a leather belt.

“Bite on it, or you’ll lose your tongue.” he says. She grabs the belt from him in faux-confidence but places it between her teeth with trembling hands. Elliot pins her down onto the table and Damien gets the other side. She tries to turn her head to look back, but Damien gently prevents her.

“It’s easier if you don’t look.” he says, his voice emotionless and his hand above her head firm.

“The less you squirm, the better it will look. Don’t want it all wonky now, do you?” Elliot asks, though he doesn’t sound like he’s taunting. He’s just trying to keep it light and calm her down, but it doesn’t work. “Just look at Pax’s. Damn near forty degrees.” he says with a dry chuckle. “I think having it done alone is also much easier. I had mine done with Logan over here, and it sucked because he went first so I had to listen to his reaction and try not to panic.” he says, and even Damien laughs a bit at the memory. Logan smiles fondly at him.

Logan walks over with the bright iron in front of him. He cracks his neck and aims it perfectly where it needs to be. She starts panicking and resisting as she feels the heat, but they keep her down.

When they go back upstairs and into the light of day, Rose’s eyes are red rimmed with tears, but she walks without pain. She keeps her head high. “Daddy!” the little boy with the brightest blue eyes exclaims, making grabby hands at Logan.

“Hello, my beautiful boy.” he says. Damien’s dad sets the boy down and he stumbles his way to Logan, who picks him up in adoration. “Thank you for looking after him, sir.” Logan says respectfully to Damien’s dad, who nods at him in acknowledgment and with a small smile before turning to face Rose.

“How did it feel?” Greyson asks.

“Fine.” she lies, looking him in the eye.

He smirks. “We’re just preparing you for hell. Welcome to the Blacks.” he says, tilting his glass of whiskey towards her before going back upstairs. As soon as he’s gone, Rose storms out of the house without another word.

“How are you?” Logan coos at his son.

“I ate ice cream from Auntie Mary’s. And Mr. Black gave me a cookie!” he says with delight. He puts his hand in his pocket and pulls out half a cookie crumbled down and wrapped in a paper towel. “Saved for you, daddy.” he says, pushing it forward.

Logan nearly cries at how much he loves his son.

One afternoon, the boy’s mother, some random one night stand, dumped a newborn baby on his doorstep and ran away forever. Logan, with no family and only a few measly bills from street fighting, became a single father at sixteen. They started off with no money, Logan using all his cents on a decent meal for Louis and dig through trash for himself (although Louis always made a point to share what little food he had with his dad). They had no heat, which was tough in Chicago winters. Logan gave his son all the blankets, never saved a single one for himself. When Louis was sick, he starved and worked his hands to the bone to afford enough for medicine. He fought every hour of the day, beating men close to death and draining the life from himself just to earn enough money to go to the hospital. He was no longer just street fighting, but cage and ring as well. Rich men placed bets on him, paid him to beat other men up for entertainment. Like some sort of fucked up rich man’s fight club.

That was when they found him. The Blacks were in the emergency room after Damien had broken his arm; Logan was crying in the waiting room, knuckles raw from all the fighting and with bruises absolutely everywhere, gripping a coughing three-year-old Louis tight to him. He was afraid that Louis wasn’t going to make it. He was too sick and Logan didn’t have the money for real treatment, barely enough for fever medicine. _“You’re gonna be okay, peanut. You’ll be fine. I love you forever.”_ he had mumbled into his son’s ear, rocking back and forth in more emotional pain than he’s ever been in. Mrs. Black came up to him and knew he was a good fighter, _“something about the look in your eyes”_ she had explained, and offered to pay for all of the boy’s treatment if he did a job for her. One job, she said, that’s all it was. Desperate, Logan had accepted. After that one job, Louis had recovered and Logan sported a name at the bottom of his neck.

Now, thanks to the Blacks, Logan has enough to keep Louis healthy and comfortable. But the lessons the young boy learnt during their hardships stayed with him.

“Bless you, my sweet boy.” Logan says, carefully pocketing the cookie himself.

“Love you daddy!” Louis says, dimples popping up as he cocks his head to the side and beams up at him.

“Love you too, peanut. Always.” Logan says, kissing his forehead.

“Louis, look what uncle Damien got you!” Damien exclaims, pulling out a lollipop from behind his back. Louis cheers in delight, his chubby hands wrapping around the candy. The boy turns back to Logan and hands it to him.

“We share.” he says, and Logan simply kisses him and shakes his head.

“No baby, that’s all yours.” he says. Louis kisses Logan’s cheek and he’s set down onto the couch to watch television. Elliot unwraps the lollipop for him and Louis thanks him sweetly before sucking on the candy.

“He’s a sweet kid. Wish all kids were like him.” Elliot says fondly as they all grab beers from the kitchen.

“Wish I could spent all my time with him. I’ve been training extra… just found out I’m gonna do a job against the Lees. Gotta be ready for whenever they need me.” he says with a groan, rubbing his tired eyes.

“Just be careful. Lees are fucking crazy, man.” Damien says, taking a swing from his bottle.


	14. fourteen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible TW in this chapter: implied self-harm, homophobic remarks, explicit violence, training a child to fight
> 
> Word count: 1,159

Tyler and Damien sit by the bar in an area they don’t normally set foot in. They drink their beers and talk about nothing in particular when Tyler’s sleeve rode up as he took another swing. Angry red lines filled his wrist, making Damien put his drink down.

“Mate…” he says slowly.

Tyler looks at him in confusion, and Damien nods at his wrist. Tyler scrambles to pull the sleeve down, unable to meet Damien’s eye.

“I thought you were better.” Damien says seriously.

Tyler shrugs. “Penance.” he says simply, but Damien doesn’t look convinced. “Amongst other reasons.” he says and Damien sighs.

“Do you need to see a doctor again? Because my mum can make the appointment. You won’t have to pay.” he says. “Dr. Ross was good for you, she made you stop for a couple of months.” he points out. “Did you go off your meds?”

Tyler nods slowly. “Didn’t feel like I needed them anymore.” he says, eyes still down on the ground.

“Maybe because they were working.” Damien says. “I’ll tell my mum that you need to see Dr. Ross again. We care about you, you know that. When you got that mark, we promised you protection. And that comes in more ways than one.” he says, and Tyler nods once more.

“You’re good people.” Tyler says and Damien scoffs at that.

“That’ll be the day.” Damien says.

“HEY!” a man exclaims, making the two boys turn their heads to face him. “I don’t drink with sissyboys!” the man exclaims angrily. Other people in the bar start looking at them in curiosity. Damien scoffs.

“So leave.” he says simply, unfazed.

“We don’t drink with homophobic pricks.” Tyler says and rolls his eyes in boredom. As someone who identifies as gay, he’s simply sick and tired of jabs like that coming at him. The amount of men he’s killed because of it is uncountable.

“Get out of my bar!” the man growls, pulling a small pocket knife on them. The boys just laugh, looking at each other in amusement.

“Look at his knife, man. I’m so fucking scared!” Tyler exclaims sarcastically and begins to mock the man, holding up an air knife and pretending to stab in front of him, looking like a young boy.

Damien laughs loudly, slapping his knee. “Small knife, small…” he begins, and the man flares his nose in anger. His parents did always say that he was too cheeky for his own good.

“Fuck off!” he yells. Damien sighs and pulls out his much larger, much more daunting knife as Tyler slips on brass knuckles.

The man looks at them in somewhat fear, but more anger.

“I’d pull my gun out, but that wouldn’t be fair, would it?” Damien asks. The man comes closer to them and Damien laughs, putting away his knife. “Actually, any weapons at all wouldn’t be fair. You can keep yours, though. Won’t make much of a difference.” he says, and punches the man square in the jaw.

He stumbles back and Tyler hits him face-front with a deafening crack.

“Why I oughta…” he begins, gaining his composure and trying to stop himself from swaying, blood gushing out of his nose.

“One of them is the son of Natalia and Greyson Black! They’re both Blacks! Are you fucking suicidal?!” the bartender exclaims. The man immediately begins to back up, pure fear on his face.

“I… I didn’t know s-sir. I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t k-know…” the man stutters out, stumbling out and running away from the bar. Damien sighs, rolling his head back lazily.

“Now we gotta kill him, don’t we?” he asks and Tyler sighs, finishing off his beer.

“For the good name of the business.” Tyler says.

Damien chugs his bottle empty and stands up, placing a large amount of money, four times the amount he owed, on the bar. “For your troubles, sir.” he says respectfully to the bartender with an impish smile.

“Next time, don’t serve assholes.” Tyler tells him, both laughing and pushing each other playfully as they leave the bar, on the hunt for the man.

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=zj8acw)

Cassie glances at his hands and sighs, subtly leaning away from him and towards the other side of the sofa. “You’ve got blood under your fingernails again.” she whispers quietly, almost too afraid to speak.

“Oh, yeah.” he says in shame, picking at the dried blood slightly. “Sorry.”

“What happened?” she asks with concern, though she can’t hide her attraction to his rebellious nature. She’s just never encountered anything like it before. It’s a totally different world, and with each vice, she grows more intrigued. She tried fighting it, but she can’t.

“Some guy looked at me the wrong way.” he says with a knowing smirk. “He had it coming.” he says, and she shakes her head.

“You need to stop fighting.” she says quietly, though she secretly doesn’t want him to. She wants him safe, but she finds it so attractive.

_Damien stood in front of his crouched father with his arms in a ready fighting position. “Hit me.” his father said. The six-year-old boy hops around like he will, but his eyes shine reluctance. “Hit me, Damien. Do not disappoint me.” he growls._

_“No daddy! Don’t wanna hurt you!” he says, tears threatening to spill._

_“Do not cry. Hit me.” his father said._

_Damien swung at his dad’s arm, but it was weak._

_“Harder.” his father demands, grabbing the wrist of the young boy and swinging it at his own face. The punch hurt Damien’s hand and made him cry out. “Go.” he said, letting go of the hand. Damien swung._

“You like it when I fight.” he says knowingly. She blushes and doesn’t even try to deny it. He leans closer to her, covering her body with his. She breathes heavily in anticipation as he slowly nips at her sweet spot by the base of her neck. She grips his shirt, attempting to pull him closer, but he doesn’t give it to her. He pulls away and she whines out loud, making him chuckle. “Gotta learn to be patient, baby girl.” he says huskily, running a hand through his hair and winking at her. Her breath hitches at the pet name.

He continues to pick the blood from his nails and she clears her throat, turning his attention back to her.

“So… this Sunday…” she says slowly. He raises an eyebrow, not understanding her implication. “Church!” she exclaims like it should be obvious. He shakes his head.

“I don’t go to church, love. I’ll burn.” he says, not a hint of humour in his voice.

“I think you’ll find that God is very forgiving.” she says.

“So is the devil. How do you think I’m still alive?”

She huffs, leaning close and placing a gentle hand on his arm, right on an old bullet wound. “Please. Come with me.” she says, her eyes wide and hopeful.


	15. fifteen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible TW in this chapter: self-harm
> 
> Word count: 1,352

“Mum, Tyler’s not doing too good again. I think he needs to see Dr. Ross.” he says, voice laced with concern. She snaps her head from the new file Patrick drew up for her, giving him her full attention. Patrick, feeling like it was none of his business, walked away and into the kitchen.

“Of course. I’ll make a call right away, get him a weekly slot with her.” she says, already bringing out her phone. “Dr. Ross, it’s me, Natalia Black.” she says.

Damien sighs, feeling a sense of deja vu.

_“Tyler, you’ve been in there for like ten minutes!” Damien yelled, knocking on the bathroom door. “I really need to piss!” he exclaimed. He had half a mind to just open the bathroom door, as it had a busted lock, and the other boys just didn’t barge in as one of the rules of the apartment._

_Damien heard a clatter in the bathroom, sounding like a loud commotion, and Tyler cursing to himself. Damien’s eyes widened in worry. He could vaguely hear the sounds of the rest of the boys playing video games in the lounge, they were far enough so that they wouldn’t hear the conversation of the two, being much further down the hall. Damien felt grateful at this. He had a bad feeling about all this. “Ty?” he asked again._

_“I’ll- I’ll be out in a second.” Tyler said back, and Damien heard more clattering inside, and he couldn’t take it anymore. He gripped the doorknob and swung the door open. Inside, he saw the sink area was a mess, everything set on top of it had fallen into the basin, explaining the loud noise. Tyler was holding onto razor blade with a shaky hand, his left arm bleeding profusely with cuts everywhere, the blood dripping down onto the white tiles. “Get the fuck out, Damien!” he growled angrily, tears in his eyes._

_Damien shut the door behind him and knelt in front of Tyler, ignoring his angry protests, and gathered him into his arms. He didn’t care that the blood was getting onto his shirt. He just needed to console his best friend. As soon as he tightened the hug, Tyler’s sharp words turned into muffled sobs._

_He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, Tyler gripping onto Damien like he was a lifeline on the ground, but soon enough, Pax was banging on the door. “Oi! Fuckers! What the fuck is going on in there?” he asked. Tyler looked panicked at the door, but Damien didn’t even miss a beat._

_Without hesitation, he yelled back: “Clogged the toilet, Ty’s helping me out.” he said._

_“Gnarly. Fuck, fine, I’ll take my piss across the road at McDonald’s. Want anything?” he asked._

_“No.” Damien said, and after he heard the footsteps fade away, he turned back to Tyler, who looked significantly calmer. “Let’s get you all bandaged up.” he said gently. Tyler nodded, almost seeming like a child despite himself being older. “Rinse it under the tap.” Damien told him, helping him stand slowly._

_The man winces as the unexpectedly cold water washed off the excess blood off his arm as Tyler rummaged through the medicine cabinet and pulled out some non-adhesive pads, saline solution, a gauze pad, and a bunch of face tissues. He’s good at first aid and cleaning up wounds, as he does it frequently and has been since he was a kid. All the boys always keep the necessary materials in their homes. It’s just part of the job._

_Damien turned the tap off after five minutes and soaks the gauze pad in the saline solution and gently wiped Tyler’s skin with it. His expression didn’t change as if he’s done this all too often. And anyways, he’s been through worse. Damien then used the face tissues to gently pat the skin dry before he placed the non-adhesive pads on his arm, covering up the cuts completely. “There we go. All patched up, no infections.” Damien said with an impish smile._

_“Thanks Damien…” Tyler said softly. “I’d really appreciate it if you don’t tell the other boys. Especially not Pax. He’ll worry.” he said._

_“I won’t, mate… but I’m gonna tell my mum. She can get you sorted with a good doctor, top in her craft, I’m sure.” he said. Tyler considered this for a few seconds before nodding slowly, almost hesitantly. “Good lad. My parents will settle the bill and any necessary medication you need. Don’t worry about that, okay?”_

_At this, Tyler looked considerably relieved. Damien smiled at him and gave him another tight hug._

_“You can borrow one of my shirts.” he said, looking guiltily at the blood on Damien’s white shirt._

_“Thanks, mate.” Damien said. Tyler walked away and back to the lounge to avoid it seeming too suspicious. Damien picked out the first hoodie he found from Tyler’s closet and slipped it on. It was a bit big on him but he didn’t mind. He was about to leave the bathroom until he saw the blood on the floor. He cleaned it up quickly before calling his mum on the phone._

_“Mum? I think Tyler needs our help.” he said._

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=zj8acw)

The boys are all in Tyler’s apartment, drinking cold beer and eating the tacos that Pax made. They stand far from a dart board on one of the walls by the kitchen, laughing as Logan throws a dart and misses _again_.

“You’re shite.” Damien says. “Never trust you with a gun.” he says.

“I’m a close-contact fighting man, not a distanced target kinda guy.” Logan says defensively, drinking beer grumpily.

“To be fair, I’m a bookie and I’m doing much better than you.” Tyler says with a laugh. “The only one at a real advantage are Damien and Elliot.” he says.

“Resident destructive team.” Elliot says, giving Damien a fist bump. They’re both top shooters, having a 99.9% success rate. They never miss, and can shoot any target they want. They’ve been getting nothing but bullseyes since they started playing, to the point where Logan forced them to stand a full metre further than the rest of them. Not that it changed anything.

“Pax, it’s your turn.” Tyler says, but is met with silence. They all turn and see Pax smiling giddily down at his phone as he types out message after message. “Pax!” he calls, and Pax snaps his head up, looking at all of them.

“What?” he asks.

“It’s your turn.” Damien says.

“Oh, sorry.” he says, still with an unbelievably large smile. He stands and picks up a few darts and throws them at the board, not really focused as they hit the edge.

“Who are you texting?” Logan asks with a raised brow at his poor performance and the fact that Pax doesn’t even care, opting to just go back on his phone. Pax is very competitive, so it’s strange to see him lose without a second thought.

“Must be someone good. He hasn’t even finished his first beer yet.” Elliot says, pointing at the half-drunk and disregarded bottle. The rest of them are well into their fourth beers.

“Maybe this is good if whoever it is keeps you from drinking so much.” Tyler says, taking his place in front of the board. They all hum in agreement.

“Is it Rose?” Damien asks with a smirk and the rest of the boys laugh but Pax remains oblivious.

Elliot runs up behind the older man and snatches up his phone, to the anger of Pax. “Stop! Give it back!” Pax exclaims, like a child. Elliot looks at the screen and laughs, throwing it back at him.

“It _is_ Rose!” he says.

“Shut up, man!” Pax says, going back to his phone and continuing to text her and instantly smiling again.

“The heist girl and the larceny man.” Logan says with a scoff. “What a pairing.” he says.

“Their first date will be pickpocketing tourists and hustling them with slight-of-hand tricks.” Elliot teases. They all laugh, but Tyler just deflates slightly and leaves the room to get more beer.


	16. sixteen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another shorter one, I'm sorry!! It's a bit of a filler chapter. I'll make it up to you in the next one x
> 
> Possible TW in this chapter: mention of drugs
> 
> Word count: 989

On a day where he’d rather be sleeping off a bad hangover, he’s stepping into sacred ground. He instantly feels uncomfortable, but Cassie looks like she fits right in. Her parents are in the front, but Damien near begs Cassie to stay at the back. In case he needs a quick exit.

She begins chatting with some of her friends, but he stays back. He feels the need to constantly look over his shoulder, only feeling a sense of comfort, ironically, when he feels his gun press against his back. She doesn’t know he’s brought weapons to a church, but she also doesn’t know all the people that could be after him. Men and their families, filled with anger and looking for revenge.

“Is that Damien Black?”

Damien quickly turns around and sees Logan, Louis holding onto his hand. He gives his friend a look of disbelief. “What are you doing here?” he asks, making his way towards the pair.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Logan says.

“Cassie made me. What’s your excuse?” he asks.

“We go every Sunday. It’s good for him.” Logan nods towards Louis. “But also… asking for forgiveness.” he says with a shrug. “Not that any of it works anyway.” he says with a smirk, looking up at the giant cross.

“Ain’t no soul to be saved.” Damien agrees. He crouches down to be eye level with Louis, who instantly smiles.

“Uncle Damien!” he exclaims, letting go of Logan’s hand to give the man a hug.

“Hiya buddy, you enjoy church?” he asks with a smile.

Louis pulls away and nods with a big toothy smile. “I like the singing. The other parts are a bit boring. But the songs are fun.” he says, swaying back and forth on his little feet. “It’s hard because daddy says I need to be quiet.”

“Yeah, you’re not too good at that, are you, peanut?” Logan asks Louis, who shook his head guiltily with a mischievous smile. “Definitely my son.” he tells Damien, who laughs endearingly.

“You should sit with Cassie and I.” Damien says.

“What do you say, peanut? Wanna sit with Uncle Damien and his girlfriend?” he asks, and Louis nods excitedly. As they walk back to their seats, Louis turns to Logan and speaks in a horrible attempt at a whisper.

“Daddy, why don’t you have a girlyfriend?” he asks. Logan almost chokes on his spit and Damien tries not to laugh out loud.

Midway through the hour, Logan seems to be paying attention like a hawk, mentally trying his hardest to beg for mercy, even if he doesn’t really believe in a god. Louis happily munches through through some gummy candy that Logan hands him to keep him quiet. Cassie looks devoted to the sermon and seems to really be taking the priest’s words to heart. But Damien… Damien is just bored out of his mind. He nearly falls asleep, but Louis nudges him before he could (“Last time I fell asleep in church, daddy wouldn’t let me have ice cream _for a whole week_. You’re welcome!” he whispered in all seriousness.)

When it finally ended, Damien was the first to stand. They all walk out, Cassie’s parents staying back to give a speech about their donations to the church.

“My name is Louis. L-O-U-I-S. Not _Lewis_ but _Lou-ee_.” Louis tells Cassie proudly. “I’m three years old.” he says, holding up three pudgy fingers and reaching them as high as he can.

“Why hello Louis. My name is Cassie. You’re quite the handsome boy.” she says, and he beams up at her and laughs.

“Thank you.” he says, making Cassie’s heart bob up in joy.

“Louis, don’t bother her.” Logan says with a slight blush, Louis rushing over back to his side and holding his hand. “Sorry about him. He’s a friendly one.” he tells Cassie, who just waves it off with a big smile.

“Don’t even worry about it. He’s absolutely lovely. I wish I had a younger brother.” she says, and he purses his lips awkwardly.

“He’s not my brother, he’s my son.” Logan says. There’s usually immediate judgment after that, a bombarding of questions, or disgusted stares. But Cassie just looks innocently taken aback. Logan is thankful.

“Don’t ya see the resemblance?” Damien asks, breaking the tension. Cassie giggles and nods, and that was the end of that. Logan really loves Damien. “Elliot’s inviting us over to his place, says his foster parents are out of town and we can crash the game room.” he says, pocketing his phone.

“Sounds great, but Louis…” Logan says slowly and Damien shakes his head.

“Obviously he’s invited. He’s invited to all our shindigs! You’re the one who doesn’t let him come.” Damien says. Logan covers Louis’ ears and glares at Damien.

“That party had cocaine from floor to ceiling. Yeah it was fun, but Louis could’ve easily taken some by accident.” he says, and Damien shrugs. Cassie tries not to react at his words, but she’s utterly scandalised.

“Not our finest moment.” Damien admits, and Logan picks Louis up so he’s sitting on his hip. “But this one’s clean. Just video games and food, I’m sure he’ll love it.” Damien says with a grin. “You’re obviously invited too.” he tells Cassie, who looks shocked.

“Oh! Okay.” she says with a blush. They all start walking to the carpark, and Cassie whispers to Damien insecurely. “I didn’t know Elliot was adopted.” she says.

He just shrugs. “Yeah, don’t bring it up, though. He hates them, hates the system. He’s been in-and-out of foster homes since he was a kid, it’s a miracle this family’s still tolerating him.” Damien says with a laugh. Cassie feels like she’s not allowed to even smile at that, hasn’t earned the right to.

“We’ll meet you there.” Logan says, getting into his own car and buckling Louis into his car seat.


	17. seventeen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MASSIVE CHAPTER AH SO MUCH EXPOSITION
> 
> Possible TW in this chapter: abusive relationship, eating disorder, domestic violence, sexual assault  
> (this is a pretty heavy chapter, so please proceed with caution! x)
> 
> Word count: 2,152

They arrive at Elliot’s much quicker than Damien anticipated, as Cassie knew the affluent neighbourhood well; most of her friends live there. They enter the gated property and is greeted by a maid, who ushers them into the game room. The house is just as large as Cassie’s, but much more modern and minimalist. The house of a pretentious artist, maybe.

“Oi oi!” Damien calls out as he enters, the other boys turning around to face him with large smiles and beers in their hands. Tyler, Pax, and Rose are all yelling at each other competitively as they play some violent game on the giant screen. Cassie has never felt more out of her element.

“Where’d you fuckers come from?” Elliot asks with a smile as the couple sit next to him.

Damien chuckles. “Church.” he says, and Elliot almost laughs out loud until he sees Cassie’s happy expression and gets the hint that it’s not a joke.

“How… holy.” Elliot says, not really knowing what to say and taking a swing of his beer. Soon after, Logan comes into the room with Louis on his back, and everyone goes crazy for the little kid. Pax calls Louis over so he can hold his controller, saying that they’re playing as a team, and Rose coos loudly. Pax just smiles at her and kisses her on the cheek before giving his full attention back to Louis; the first time the two have ever really showed affection like that in public. Logan watched the scene unfold carefully before sitting next to Cassie. He starts to talk to her, as friendly and welcoming as ever. He’s always been the most kind and considerate one in their friend group.

“Anyway, check this out.” Elliot says, handing Damien his phone. The screen displays several text messages, and Damien reads through them quickly, noting that she’s responding to his texts within the minute and he takes about twenty to reply.

 **From: (773) 825- 9418**  
Hey handsome!

**To: (773) 825- 9418**

whos this

 **From: (773) 825- 9418**  
Sarah, silly!

 **From: (773) 825- 9418**  
From your calculus class? We were at the club together last night.

**To: (773) 825- 9418**

oh shit yea hey

 **From: (773) 825- 9418**  
You’re SO funny!!

**To: (773) 825- 9418**

um ok

**To: (773) 825- 9418**

im not tryna lead u on or whatever so like u should know i

dont have any plans to have a thing w u or anything like that

 **From: (773) 825- 9418**  
Wait, what? Huh?

 **From: (773) 825- 9418**  
Are you serious?

 **From: (773) 825- 9418**  
Because I know we’re meant to be together… we had such a good  
time at the bar!! Don’t you want to see where this goes?

**To: (773) 825- 9418**

not particularly

**To: (773) 825- 9418**

sorry

 **From: (773) 825- 9418**  
I’m so confused you seemed so nice on our date… :(

**To: (773) 825- 9418**

it wasnt a date i just bought u a drink

 **From: (773) 825- 9418**  
But I know you’re my soulmate… I could love you better than  
any girl out there.

**To: (773) 825- 9418**

dont believe in soulmates sorry

**To: (773) 825- 9418**

and anyways i dont date

 **From: (773) 825- 9418**  
I gave you all of me and you’re just throwing me away??? I  
gave you my virginity! I love you!

**To: (773) 825- 9418**

sorry didnt know, wouldnt have slept w u if i did

 **From: (773) 825- 9418**  
You’re just a disgusting fuckboy and I’m too good for you anyway.

**To: (773) 825- 9418**

probably

 **From: (773) 825- 9418**  
Don’t you feel a connection?!

 **From: (773) 825- 9418**  
Hello?!

 **From: (773) 825- 9418**  
UGH, I hate you!

That’s where the conversation ends, Elliot blocking her number. Damien whistles and tries not to laugh when he hands the phone back. “Intense.” he comments.

“They always are.” Elliot says, rolling his eyes. Damien knows he’ll never settle down. Not after Lily.

Elliot was fifteen when he first met Lily. He was just adopted by a family in Rockford, so he was the new kid in school. A nervous sophomore in an entirely new city. When he first laid eyes on Lily, he instantly fell in love. Or, what he thought was love. She was a senior, and drop-dead gorgeous. She made his heart leap out of his chest. And she knew the kind of effect she had on him. She toyed with his feelings. She would show up at the café where he worked and would flirt with him incessantly, and, eventually, they would make out in the back alley. When they finally had sex at some random party she invited him to, he was elated. It was his first time and he felt like he truly lost his virginity to someone who loved him back. He felt like he was finally going to progress his relationship with her. But she ignored all his texts that whole weekend. He figured she was just busy. The next party, she slept with him again, and the cycle continued. She’d sleep with him, and then ignore him, and then they’d fight because Elliot felt like he was her boyfriend, especially since she would yell at him when he would try to even speak at any other girl, but she just kept reminding that she didn’t like him that way, then she’d kiss him and they’d sleep with each other again. A vicious cycle that Elliot grew tired of quickly.

One day, he had asked her to come with him to his foster dad’s birthday, and she blew up at him, saying that she didn’t want to meet his family because they _weren’t_ dating. So Elliot got up to leave their ‘relationship’ for good, but she had grabbed his wrist and he felt an unbelievable amount of hope and joy. He thought she would finally apologise and kiss him gently. But no. She slapped his face so hard his ears rang and called him an idiot if he thought he could just walk away from her. He blacked out, and the next thing he knew, he was tied to a bed and his head was throbbing. His vision was blurred and he felt like he couldn’t move a single muscle. He knew there was something in his system. She was straddling his waist, grinding down onto him. He felt no pleasure. He began to panic and told her to stop, that he wanted to leave, that he didn’t want this. She didn’t let him go.

But he told himself that was just a one-time thing. She wasn’t in her right state of mind. So, they spent half a year ‘together’. She said he was hers, but she was not his. She treated him like an object. She slept with him and didn’t care if he didn’t want to, beat him up if he ever said something she didn’t like, and was made fun of relentlessly. She forced him to go on a diet, saying he was getting fat and she would never sleep with someone hideous. She hit him when he ate over five hundred calories a day and monitored his daily exercise. Of course five hundred became three hundred became one hundred became only water and cigarettes. He was constantly seeing black, and he was too weak to stand up without the world spinning. But he did it because he thought it would make her happy. Thought it would finally make her love him back. Little did he know that she was sleeping with other guys the whole time. All of them would laugh at a clueless and confused Elliot as he walked the halls, and when he tried to confront her about it, he couldn’t even get more than two words in before she’s pulling his shirt from over his head. He didn’t have the energy to fight back anymore, so he just let her do what she wanted to him. Again. When he finally found out she was constantly cheating on him, he didn’t even fight, his eyes just dimmed. He told himself that he can’t get mad at someone he’s not dating. But he felt like a fool anyway.

He was tired, and he felt humiliated. And he was fucking _hungry_. He was working his shift at the café, trying not to get a good whiff of the delicious smelling food he was constantly surrounded by, and she walked through the doors, calling his name out like it was dirt in her mouth. She dragged him away from the counter and to the back alley, pushing him against the wall violently, kissing him hard. The impact made him see spots, his head spinning. He knew it was going to bruise his spine. He seemed to bruise so easily then. He tried to pull away, said he would get in trouble with his boss and he had to go back to work. But she punched him straight in the gut, telling him he needed to know his place, he couldn’t just walk away from her. He fell onto the ground, feeling weaker than he’s ever felt before. He started to black out, his body running on nothing for the past two days, and he thought he was going to die then and there.

That was the last time he saw her. He woke up in the hospital, where he spent a month as an in-patient for diagnosed anorexia nervosa. After that, his foster parents decided he was no good, didn’t like the hefty cost of the bill afterward, and returned him back to the orphanage in Chicago. He’s never let any girl in since. Honestly, outside of the boys, he hasn’t let anyone in at all.

“HAHA! FUCKING LOSER, I WIN!” Tyler exclaims, cheering and bringing Elliot back to reality. He’s done with the past, he’ll never see Lily again. He tells himself he’s safe, he’s fine, and he knows the boys will never let her within a ten-mile radius of him. He’s very grateful that they’re in his life, despite the circumstances.

“Language!” Logan yells, glaring at the older man, but is happy that Pax covered Louis’ ears in time to block out the profanity. “What game do you wanna play next, peanut?” he asks his son, who’s laughing at his Uncle Tyler dancing ridiculously.

“Mario Vroom Vroom Racing!” he says, and they set Mario Kart up. As they do, Pax and Rose whisper in each other’s ears, giggling and blushing, giving each other quick kisses in between. Most of them tease the pair, but Logan just looks at them with an unreadable expression, and Tyler’s trying to pretend like it’s not even happening.

After they all deliberately let Louis beat them in Mario Kart (“Wait, Louis, how do I move forward?”, “Louis, why am I going backwards? AHH!”, “Can’t seem to stay on the track… how are you doing it, Louis?!”), to the delight of the young boy, they all decide to go and get food in the kitchen. They all start to leave the room, but Logan places a hand on Rose’s shoulder before she could follow them out.

“Hey, can we talk? Seriously.” Logan says to Rose. She looks at him with a suspicious raised brow but nods once anyway. Logan looks ahead to make sure the other guys have already walked further than earshot distance before speaking. “So… your thing with Pax.” he starts and she prompts him to continue. “You guys are cute and all, but if you’re not serious about him, please just let him know. Don’t lead him on. I know right now it’s a bit early, but I’d rather you say it sooner than later. He’s been through a lot, and I don’t want him to get more invested if you’re just going to change your mind.” he says, face stern and careful.

She blinks at him and sighs. “It’s hard for me too. I’ve been through my fair share of trust issues.” she defends, and Logan raises his hands in mock surrender.

“Hey, I’m not saying you haven’t. I’m just saying, Pax has been through hell. The Pax you know, that’s like him before. We haven’t seen that side of him in over a year. It’s been different. Please, just… think bout it.” he says.

She considers for a second. “I’m serious about him. I trust him, which isn’t something I can do easily.” she says, and he gives her a look like he’s unconvinced.

“Take some serious time to think about it, please. Don’t just say things like that. Really give it some thought before making your decision.” he says, smacking his lips in finality. “Anyways, we should catch up with them. They’ve gone pretty far, and I’m starving and we got ice cream from Mary’s.” he says with a small smile, turning around and running after his friends, leaving her behind, stunned.


	18. eighteen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word count: 1,970

Cassie nervously shifts in her cheerleading uniform, pompoms in hand. It’s the big game against their rival school, and they’re debuting their hardest routine yet. The tumbling's all level seven, the stunts are all illegal, and the dance is high energy.

They all scream and cheer as they run out into the sidelines of the large football field. The crowd goes crazy. She looks around and smiles as she sees Damien stood up and leaning against the bleachers. Although everyone’s not in uniform, he still stands out as he has an entirely different aura about him. He smiles proudly and gives her a thumbs up, boosting her confidence significantly.

Their school is in the lead, 2-0, and the energy in the stands is insane. During halftime, the cheerleaders make their way to the middle of the field, cheering and jumping. The music starts and the adrenaline pumps in Cassie’s veins. She starts the routine by going into a clean roundoff back handspring back tuck, then jumping up and landing in her splits.

When the song finishes, and they’ve all struck their last pose, the crowd goes absolutely wild. Not a single person on their team messed up, everyone performing perfectly and to the best of their abilities. It was a flawless routine. They cheer as they head back to the sidelines, watching as the game resumes.

“GO ISAAC GO!” Lucy cheers out for her boyfriend, pompoms flailing in the air as she jumps into a perfect herkie.

“He’s a goalie, he isn’t even doing anything!” Cassie points out and Lucy just shoves her playfully.

When the game finishes, 3-1, the football players go off into the sidelines in victory. They scream and pump their fists in the air, and the cheerleaders mingle with the team. Lucy runs towards Isaac and jumps into his arms, he supports her easily as she wraps her legs around his waist and kisses him passionately.

Cassie smiles wide as she congratulates a few of her friends on the team, and gets some herself on their fantastic performance. She’s mid-wave when someone suddenly wraps their arm around her shoulders. She jumps and looks to see Oscar, a new kid and the right-back, smirking down at her.

“You did amazing today.” he says, shamelessly looking her up and down. “I like that uniform on you.” She tries to pull away from him in disgust, but his grip is firm.

“Thanks…” she says in trepidation.

“Do I get a congratulatory kiss?” he asks cockily and her brows shoot up in shock.

“I have a boyfriend.” she says firmly, but he only chuckles.

“He doesn’t have to know.” he says with his brows wiggling suggestively. “Besides, I don’t see him anywhere.” he says.

“Turn around.” a deep and demanding voice calls from behind them. Cassie bites her lip in anticipation. She knows Damien’s gonna cause a scene, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t find his possessiveness so attractive. Oscar turns both of them with a questioning look and doesn’t back down when he sees Damien, but his eyes flash a second of uncertainty. “Now you do.” Damien growls. He looks like a predator on the hunt, fierce and out for blood.

“I don’t see much.” Oscar says, though his voice quivers slightly. Damien chuckles without humour.

“Keep at it and soon, you won’t be able to see at all.” he growls, hand already moving to grab his knife. She sees the movement and elbows Oscar hard in his side, making him double over, more in shock than pain. She runs over to Damien and puts a hand on his, stopping him from bringing out the weapon. His eyes are still flashing bloody anger and are firmly planted on Oscar, who’s recovering from the blow, but he relaxes slightly at her touch.

“Babe, no. He’ll get you in trouble. His dad’s the chief justice at the supreme court.” she whispers into his ear. Damien doesn’t miss a beat.

“I don’t care. I’ll fucking kill him for touching you.” he growls, voice low and terrifying. Oscar hears it and unconsciously takes a step back in defence. This makes Damien smirk. “Fucking pussy.” he says, spitting on the ground in front of Oscar’s feet.

“For me. Please. Let’s just go.” Cassie whispers. She kisses his cheek gently and Damien finally turns his attention to her. The pleading look in her eyes makes him nod slowly, wrapping a protective arm around her waist.

“Count your fucking blessings that _my_ girlfriend’s kind enough to spare you. This could’ve ended much worse for you.” Damien tells Oscar with a snarl. “You touch her again, and it’ll be the last thing you do.”

“Is that a threat?” Oscar asks bravely, though his body shakes.

Damien laughs. “No. It’s a promise.” he says, walking away from the trembling boy.

They walk in silence, Damien’s blood boiling as he feels an itch that can only be scratched by hearing the satisfying crack of his skull. She tries to calm him down by running her hand over his, gently tracing mindless shapes. When they get to the parking lot, Damien quickly sheds off his leather jacket and hands it to her.

“You wear this jacket every day now, you got it? You show these stupid fucking pricks that you’re mine.” he growls, sending a shiver down her spine. She nods as she puts it on, tiny frame drowning in his leather jacket, eyes wide. She only wants to please him. He cups her face gently, but his eyes hold the same intensity. “Gonna tell Elliot to look after you. Make sure nobody’s making eyes at my girl.” he grunts, hands falling down to hold her hips. A small smile makes its way to his lips as he looks down at her outfit, his heart speeding up when he sees her in his clothes. “Though I must admit, it’s going to be very difficult for them.” he says.

She blushes brightly. “All yours.” she whimpers and his smile grows.

“Good girl.” he says, kissing her forehead. She preens at the attention and the compliment, feeling a sense of pride. “You should’ve fought him off you sooner.” he says, bringing her close to him possessively, a hand snaking under her cheerleading skirt. Her skin comes alive at his touch, making her breath hitch. He looks down at her innocently, like he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“I tried. He was too strong.” she says in a whimper. “Not as strong as you, though.” she adds with a cheeky smile.

He shakes his head at her with a fond smile. “Thank you, baby.” he says. “Maybe we should teach you how to fight. As much as I would love to protect you from everyone, I’m not always gonna be there. Like when you’re in school or I have a job. Gotta learn to fight off these stupid wankers.” he grumbles.

She nods excitedly. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.” she says, looking so unbelievably cute and small. He smirks at her and notices the other students coming out into the parking lot. He sees Oscar come out and he stops to stare at the pair. Vengefully, Damien leans down and captures her lips in his in a heated kiss, squeezing her ass underneath her skirt and making her squeal, before flipping Oscar off with his other hand. _Mine_ , he thinks. When he pulls away and opens his eyes, Oscar’s still staring, visibly angrier, but just walks away.

They get into his car, and almost instantly, Damien’s phone lights up with a message. “Babe, who texted?” he asks as he looks back, trying to get out of the tight parking space. She picks up the phone from the cupholder and instantly grimaces.

 **From: Eleanor x**  
hey daddy my shift got cancelled lets have fun tonight i miss ur cock ;)

Cassie’s world comes crashing down. A thousand thoughts race through her mind. _Who’s Eleanor? Why does she have a kiss by her name? Why was she calling him daddy? Am I just another girl to him? I thought we were serious? What’s happening? Is he cheating?_ “Um…” she starts, mouth dry.

“Hmm?” he asks, waiting for a response as he drives out of the school gates.

“Wh-Who’s Eleanor?” she asks, voice small and trying not to cry.

Damien stepped hard and abruptly on the brakes, Cassie would have flown forward if it wasn’t for the seatbelt that kept her in place. Damien grabbed the phone from Cassie’s hand and groaned when he saw the screen, shoving his phone back in the cupholder. “She’s nobody, babe.”

“I’m not a fool. Don’t you dare lie to me.” Cassie says angrily, raising her voice. As she got louder, the tears in her eyes became more prominent. “Do not call me yours and talk to other girls behind my back.” she says, angrily removing his jacket and throwing it on the car floor.

He sighs, running his hand over his face before speaking. “Eleanor’s this girl I used to date. It’s in the past.” he says. ‘ _Girl I used to date_ ’ was really downplaying it. She was his first real love, and he was hers. He was seventeen and she was twenty, and they were convinced they were soulmates— thought they would marry each other.

“ _Used to_? Then why is there an ‘x’ next to her name?!” Cassie demands. Okay, fair.

“I just forgot to change it.” he says lamely. It was the truth, but he understands how much of a lie it sounds. Cassie scoffs like she doesn’t believe him. “It’s true. You know you’re the only one for me.” he says, voice almost pleading. “Baby, c’mon. She’s in the past, I swear. If it makes you happy, I’ll tell her I’m dating you.”

Cassie glances at him unsurely. “What do I need to know about her?” she asks insecurely. _She’s probably beautiful, drop-dead gorgeous. She probably gave herself to him. She’s something I will never be. He won’t wait for long, he’s a guy after all._

“I dunno. We ended it a few months ago.” he says, almost sounding frustrated. “I don’t know what you want me to say.” he admits, slumping down in his seat.

“How long were you two together?” she asks.

He shifts in his seat nervously. “Two years.” he says. Cassie wants to scream. A few beats as she digests the information.

“Where did you meet her?” she asks, arms crossed over her chest.

At this, he blushes brightly. “Is that really important?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck shyly. She glares at him, and he knows he has to answer. He clears his throat uncomfortably before speaking. “At The Throne.” he says, not meeting her eye.

“The strip club?!” she exclaims in disbelief. He flinches at her tone. She can’t believe it. _Of fucking course they met at a strip club. She’s cool, she’s sexy, she’s promiscuous. Everything I’ll never be. What the fuck was he even doing in a strip club anyway?!_

“Y-yeah. She dances there.” he says. Her nose flares in anger.

_Are you kidding me?! She’s a stripper?! She works there?! What the fuck!_

“Listen, Cass… like I said, it’s in the past.” he tries. “Please believe me, babe.” he says, kissing her cheek gently.

She takes a deep breath and slowly puts his jacket back on, much to his relief. “Tomorrow, you’re talking to her and you’re telling her to leave you alone.” she orders, and he nods, starting the car back up. “And you remove that god damn ‘x’ next to her name.”

He chuckles nervously but nods anyways. They sit in unbearable silence for a moment before Cassie speaks up. “So… daddy, huh?”

He almost crashes his car.


	19. nineteen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH another shorter, somewhat filler chapter!
> 
> Word count: 927

Logan bounces around the ring in the black and gold boxing trunks that match his black and gold gloves. His torso, with a scattering of tattoos and his proud mark at the base of his neck, glisten with sweat as his feet move quickly, evading the hits of the man twice his size, then moving to hit him with double the force. His trainer watches from outside the ring, taking notes on his clipboard. In the end, the welterweight delivers one last blow to the large man, making him fall back, knocked out cold. Logan doesn’t even have a scratch on him. Guards drag the man’s body away as Logan punches his gloves together with a triumphant grunt.

“Good job, Logan.” his coach says. The coach that the Blacks have given him. When he’s not running jobs, he’s training to fight large men, the Blacks running a gambling house for the champion. He earns them a lot of money. They cover his medical bills for injuries or anything like that, all he has to do is fight. And win, if that’s what they tell him to do. It honestly depends on how the bets are placed and what earns them more, or how they can spin it for a comeback the next game. After that decision is made, in come all the logistics that Tyler’s in charge of. “Your next match is next Saturday against Billy Raymond, heavyweight. It’ll be good practice for your job against the Lees coming up.”

Logan groans, removing his mouth guard so he can speak. “He’s gonna kill me. Man’s fucking massive.” he says. “Am I gonna lose or what?” he asks. The desired outcome for the match dictates how Logan’s going to train and his tactics for the game. He really hopes he has to lose. With bigger guys, it’s much easier because he can just double over on lighter hits and declare it done and dusted. If he has to win against someone bigger, the hits and the going down are very much real because he has to fight back and actually try to beat them down. It hurts him three times more to win than to lose.

“You’re gonna win. Lots of money riding on you, champ. You’ve never lost a game you weren’t supposed to, don’t start now.” he says sternly.

Logan huffs. “But when I come home with a broken nose or whatever, what am I supposed to tell my son? That guy can crush my back by just kneeling on me.” he grumbles.

“Figure it out yourself.” his coach says with a scoff. “Besides, I’m sure he’s used to seeing you all beat up now. From what I heard, before you were a Black, you fought every night without medical coverage.” he says. “He’s probably quite familiar with the sight of broken bones.”

Logan glares at him. He prefers his past to be kept private. He’s quite ashamed of the things he had to do to provide for his son. He feels as if it makes him a bad dad. Yet he doesn’t say anything. He knows that if he does, he’s just going to pay for it.

“Just win the match.” his coach says in finality, walking away.

“Sounds rough.” Damien says with a smirk, making Logan jump in shock. Logan then leans against the ropes and smiles bitterly down at him.

“Yeah, thanks to your parents. Gonna be bruised and bloody for days after.” he says, rolling his eyes playfully.

“Well, if it helps, I’ll be cheering you on in the crowd!” Damien says cheekily and Logan just flips him off with a laugh.

“Why are you here?” he asks with a raised brow. Damien nods his head towards Cassie, stood next to him in athletic wear.

“She wants to learn how to fight, to defend herself. I could teach her, but I fight dirty. She might as well learn how to do it properly, from the best.” Damien says with a smile, and Cassie looks nervous. She has white gloves hanging from her gym bag that look pristine, straight out of the box. “From the man that could’ve been an Olympian.”

“Yeah, if I didn’t have a heavy criminal record.” Logan says with a smirk.

“Well, you win some, you lose some.” Damien teases and the boys laugh together.

When they both regain their composure, Logan smiles down at Cassie, friendly and impish. “First things first, get rid of the white gloves. Impossible to get blood out of.” he says, and Cassie pales in fear. He laughs loudly at her expression. “Just joking! We’re just doing beginner work, you won’t fight.” he says. “Come on up.” he says, lifting up the rope to create a hole for her to get inside.

“Good luck, babe.” Damien says with a smile, giving her a quick kiss. With some hesitation, she climbs into the ring and Logan helps her put on her gloves.

“Do you do any sports?” Logan asks, trying to assess her fitness level.

“Cheer.” she says simply, and Logan hums in appreciation.

“Yikes, I could never do that.” he says and she beams up at him. Nobody ever appreciates cheerleading, they think it’s easy, and hardly anyone recognises it as a sport— even if it’s incredibly physically demanding and terrifying to be thrown twenty feet in the air with only other girls and a two-inch mat below. “Alright, fists up like this to protect your jaw and elbows down here to protect your ribs.” he says, demonstrating the stance next to her.


	20. twenty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lowkey, this is one of my favourite chapters. Also, not that anyone asked but I've been writing chapter thirty-four for a while now and I can't seem to get it just right so I'm super frustrated lmao
> 
> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated x
> 
> Word count: 1,956

The Throne is loud and oozes sensuality. The lights are all red and pink, and there’s a layer of fog that mists around the floor. A classic rhythm and blues track vibrates the walls, and there are dancers everywhere— dancers of all shapes, sizes, colours, in varying kinds of lingerie, littered the floor, the stages, the bar. The audience consisted mostly of rich men and women in powerful suits, and the odd bachelor party.

Damien knows this place like the back of his hand. He had spotted Eleanor giving a lap dance to somebody in the corner the first time he come here with the boys two years ago. How she managed to ignore the obvious tent in the man’s pants, he’ll never know. He supposed she was used to it. He instantly fell for her long black curls and fierce black eyes. Absolutely beautiful. Though he felt a bit like an idiot, he was sure all her clients found themselves in the exact position he was in. She feigns love, and he’s just another guy that’s fallen into the trap.

But as it turned out, later in the night when she made eye contact with him for the first time, she felt the same way. Absolutely drawn to him, an instant connection. He booked a private room with her, but instead of the usual pay-and-leave that came with the session, they laid next to each other and spoke about anything and everything for another hour and a half. She even lifted her strict rule and let him kiss her. She never lets anyone kiss her, not even private room clients. She agreed to let him take her out on a date and they went bowling; her making fun of how stupid he looked in the shoes and him trying to cheat by walking all the way up to the pins to knock them down. She, of course, was his lookout. After that, he spent almost everyday in that club, not for any reason other than to support his girlfriend and to innocently spend her breaks with her at the back, with a shared cigarette and bad jokes between ‘ _how was your day?_ ’s.

“Where’s Eleanor?” he asks the bartender. She’s definitely new, he doesn’t recognise her. She gives him a raised brow, and he sighs, rolling his eyes. “Victoria.” he tries once more, giving her stage name. The bartender understands and points at one of the side stages.

He takes a deep breath before walking over to the front of the stage. As usual, men are drooling over her. Honestly, who wouldn’t? She’s got a killer body with long, toned legs and a perfectly round ass. You can tell she’s all natural, a rare feat in her field, and it only attracts more people. But it’s not just her body. She’s got a gorgeous face, symmetrical yet with a single beauty mark, fierce yet sweet. She looks like a proper model, and Damien always said she could easily be a Victoria’s Secret angel.

She almost, _almost_ , knocks the wind out of his chest when she falls into perfect splits and then proceeds to dry hump the stage, still in her splits. He’s forgotten how skilled she is at her job.

He watches her dance her routine without missing a beat, her hands gliding over her oiled-up skin. He doesn’t know this routine, and that’s what snaps him back into reality. When they were dating, they came up with her dances together. Often, she’d make something up and test it on him to see what he thought, then he’d give his input. It was part of their everyday life. Most people thought their relationship was pure sex, but it wasn’t. Don’t get them wrong, they had _a ton_ of amazing sex, but it was more than that. She had her own apartment, and he practically lived there, so they were very domestic. They went grocery shopping together, had long debates over the best kind of toilet paper to buy, cooked and cleaned together. They bought matching ugly Christmas jumpers that they wore to the Black family’s holiday celebrations two years in a row, he beat up guys that were too rude or didn’t respect her ‘no touching and no kissing’ rule, and she learned how best to remove blood from clothes. She even helped him during meetings and interrogations as her brother was a con artist and so she could always tell when people were lying. But this dance, he doesn’t know this dance.

As soon as her routine ends, she catches his eye. He waves at her slightly, somewhat awkwardly. She looks dumbstruck but manages to snap herself back as the men below her scream and cheer at her. She climbs down the stage, giving them a well-rehearsed wink, and makes a bee-line towards him.

“Damien…” she says slowly. “Sorry about the text last night. I was drunk and wasn’t thinking.” she says, utterly embarrassed. “Come on, let’s go out back so we can talk.” she says. He nods and lets her grab his hand to lead the way. With the music and the lights, neither of them noticed the flash that went off as their photo was taken.

She leads him into her cold dressing room, and when she shuts the door, the music muffles instantly. The lights are dim and the room is familiar. Not much has changed. “You look good, El.” he says genuinely, a small smile creeping his way up onto his lips. She smiles back at him as she puts on a large hoodie to cover up and it easily goes past her hands and lands mid-thigh. She doesn’t even realises that it’s Damien’s old one. The one he gave her for her to wear between shifts and whenever she had down time, because it was always her favourite and he wanted to be able to comfort her even if he wasn’t there. His eyes widen slightly when he sees it and he chokes on air, a thousand memories flooding back. Confused, she looks around the room until she looked down at her body. She blushes brightly.

“Fuck, ‘m sorry. Wasn’t thinking.” she says truthfully, scratching the back of her neck. “It’s just always been my between shows outfit, I just got used to it I guess…” she rambles, unable to meet his eye in embarrassment. She doesn’t want to seem like she’s still into him, but with the hoodie and the text, it’s not looking too good for her. She starts to remove it, but he stops her, placing a gentle hand on hers.

“It’s fine, you can keep it. I just wasn’t expecting to see it.” he says, trying to make her feel more comfortable. “Looks good on you.” He bites his tongue to avoid blurting out that he doesn’t think it would look as good on anyone else on the entire planet. And although it’s technically his, it’s very much hers. It smells like her now, all traces of him gone from the hoodie. When they were dating, she used to make him wear it once a week so that it would smell like him again when she borrowed it for work. His scent always comforted her. But now… now it just smells like her.

She smiles shyly at that. “Thanks.” she whispers, letting go of the hoodie’s hem. It’s silent for a few seconds, The Weeknd’s muffled music filling the quiet. “So… to what do I owe this pleasure?” she asks, trying to keep the mood light although she’s painfully aware that they’re mere inches apart. She hasn’t seen him in months and she’s forgotten how much she’s missed his presence. She’s always felt safe around him, and absolutely nothing has changed.

“Just wanted to talk about the text.” he says honestly. She shifts awkwardly at the mention of it and he sits down next to her on the plush couch. They’d both be lying if they said neither of them felt a familiar spark when their thighs touched. “Listen… I just want you to know that I’ll gladly be your friend and I’ll always be here if you need me… but I have a girlfriend.” he says. Her expression is unreadable until she smiles at him, somewhat sadly.

“I have a fiancé.” she says. It’s his turn to go blank-faced.

“Well…” he says slowly. “He’s a lucky guy.” he says, identical sad smile. “And hey, as long as he treats you right. He pulls any shit, you come tell me and I’ll beat the life out of him.” he says, nudging her playfully. She laughs and leans into his arm.

“Ever the romantic.” she says without a single trace of humour, and he chuckles lightly.

A beat. “Are you happy?” he asks seriously, looking her in the eyes.

She considers it before responding. “Well… yes. Not as happy as I was with you but I don’t think I’ll ever be as happy as I was with you.” she says earnestly. The words weigh on his chest heavily. The lights are dim and the tension is palpable.

“We were pretty great together.” he says fondly. She hums in agreement. “How’d you guys meet?” he asks, twiddling his thumbs in his lap.

She giggles before replying. “At the farmer’s market.” she says, trying to cover her adorable laugh with a delicate hand, and he laughs.

“Better than our story.” he says. She shrugs.

“I don’t know about that.” she says quietly, and he sighs. “But he’s a good guy. He’s a pre-school teacher, doesn’t earn that much. Just a simple guy with a quiet life.” she says. “Doesn’t know I do this. He thinks I’m the bartender here.” she adds, and he chuckles at that, shaking his head.

“Sounds like he’s good for you.” he says with a smirk. It was, in all honesty, the complete opposite of her relationship with Damien. Her engagement is simple, sweet, vanilla in all senses. She’s fine with it now, likes the change from her everyday life, but she knows she’ll get bored of it eventually. With Damien, their life was fast-paced, sexy, and dangerous but perfectly balanced with routine, an unbearable amount of coziness, and safety.

“Probably is.” she says, already imagining the white picket fence they’re going to have. Most likely a dog and a blue house. “What about your girlfriend?” she asks, and she’s not really sure if she really wants to know.

He smiles at the ground. “She’s nice. She goes to school with E, a bit of a posh girl, goes to church. She’s got a heart of gold.” he says. They look at each other and giggle at the similar ways their lives have ended up.

“Maybe I’ll see you in church one day. Jack goes weekly.” she says, and he properly laughs.

“Yeah, we can stay at the back. _The sinners_.” he says dramatically, and her head tips back in a big grab-your-gut laughter. When they both calm down, they just smile at each other in nostalgia. “He’ll never be as daddy as me, though. Right?” he says cockily, puffing out his chest and raising up his arms. She scoffs at him as he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. She pushes his chest mockingly and he fakes offence.

“Shut up, Black.” she says, her cheeks dusting a light pink.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” he says with his usual impish grin. She sighs, taking him all in.

“Guess nothing really beats your first love, huh?” she wonders out loud, looking at a flickering candle in reminiscence because, for once, she can’t look him in the eye.

He smiles shyly at her. “Guess not.”


	21. twenty-one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word count: 1,230

“She’s not bloody answering my calls.” Damien angrily tells his friends as they all hang out at Logan’s house. Honestly, his place isn’t too fun. There are toys everywhere (a real tripping hazard for Pax), the TV’s on parental lock (Logan refuses to take it off, even if it’s just for them, in case Louis walks in), and there’s no hard liquor (they still sneak in a flask or two behind Logan’s back). Forget about drugs unless they’re shaped liked animals or strawberry flavoured. But there are days when Logan has to stay at home and be with Louis, and he misses a lot of their hangouts because of it. So they made a point to make the hangout G-rated and in his house so he can be a part of it.

“Well... what happened?” Elliot asks, swinging his legs back and forth on the kitchen countertop. “Didn’t you guys go boxing with Logan yesterday?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.

“Well, yeah. Everything was fine yesterday, but I dunno…” Damien says, and it’s only half the truth. “I was with her two days ago and Eleanor texted me.” he says, and at that, all the boys gasped.

“Eleanor? _The_ Eleanor? Love of your life Eleanor?!” Pax asks with an urgency.

Tyler hits his arm with the back of his hand. “Do you know any other Eleanor?” Tyler asks him sarcastically.

“Jeez, sorry.” Pax says, rubbing his arm with a pout. Tyler feels bad and lets the younger boy cuddle into him as an apology.

Damien glares at him. “Anyways, yes. _That_ Eleanor texted. Cassie got mad, obviously, so I told her I’d tell her I was dating someone else now.” he explains.

“What did she text you?” Tyler asks curiously as he dunked his spoon into the open pint of ice cream from Mary’s. Damien pulls out his phone and shows them the text, and they all whoop and pat him on the back.

“You fucking dog.” Pax says, rubbing his shoulders.

“No wonder Cassie was so mad.” Elliot says with a snort.

Damien just rolls his eyes and pockets his phone. During this moment, Logan comes bounding in from the hallway. “Well, after three Dr. Seuss books, he’s _finally_ asleep. What did I miss?” he asks with a smile, looking around at his friends’ various expressions.

“ _The_ Eleanor’s back and is horny for Damien and Cassie’s mad.” Elliot recaps for him quickly, stuffing his mouth with a handful of popcorn. Logan laughs in disbelief.

“Yeah, I’m glad this is all so amusing to you.” Damien scoffs. Logan gives a half-hearted apology and urges him to continue on with his story. “Anyways. So I went to The Throne last night,” he says and Elliot almost chokes on his popcorn.

“You saw her _in person_?! Why didn’t you just text her?” Elliot asks, and they all raise their brows at him. He blushes and shifts uncomfortably.

“ _Because_.” he starts with much more confidence than he actually has. “It’s not something you say in text. Like, if she was a random slag, then sure, whatever. But she was a big part of my life and I felt like she deserved to be told in person.” he defends.

They hum in consideration and Logan smiles at him. “How mature of you. I approve of this decision.” he says, taking a sip of the juice box that was left disregarded on the kitchen counter by Louis.

“Okay, well, yeah. I went and saw her. Nothing happened, obviously. She only sent the text because she was drunk. She’s engaged now, apparently.” he says, and Pax spits out his beer. Before any of them could yell out their questions, Logan shushes them all down.

“ _Louis is sleeping!_ ” he reminds them sternly. They all mumble apologies before looking back expectedly at Damien.

He huffs. “Apparently he’s some pre-school teacher. Nice bloke, quiet life.” he says, and they all look at each other with shit-eating smirks.

“Sounds like you.” Pax points out and Damien hit him behind his head.

“Ow!” Pax groans, rubbing the spot he hit and looking like a little kid.

“And that’s that. Now Cassie won’t answer my calls or texts.” he says in finality, choosing to leave out the intimate details of his talk with Eleanor. How she’s not as happy with Jack as she was with him, or how they laughed together and it felt like nothing had changed. He doesn’t say anything because there’s no point. They’ve both moved on with their lives. “I don’t even know why she’s making such a big deal out of it.” Damien groans.

Tyler blinks at him twice. “Your ex-girlfriend called you daddy and said she missed your cock.” he says in a matter-of-fact tone. Damien pouts.

“So?” he asks in a small, defeated voice.

“Hmm… maybe you should see her in person. Ask her yourself.” Logan says thoughtfully.

Damien sighs. “Yeah, maybe.” he says. “I’m just like… what if she wants space?” he asks.

“Space from what? You don’t even know what you did wrong, really.” Elliot says with a shrug. “You should go and ask. Y’know, communicate and shit.” he says.

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=zj8acw)

Damien pulls up to Cassie’s driveway, and he’s about to swallow his pride until her front door swings open, Patrick walking out with her hand in his. He sees nothing but red. He leaves his car and lets out a loud growl.

“What the fuck are you doing with my girl?” he asks, angry and in his fighting stance.

“Is _she_ your girl?” he asks in mock curiosity. “Is that why you were with Eleanor at The Throne?” he asks mockingly. Damien’s eyes darken in anger and Cassie looks visibly sadder. Like a fresh wound was just reopened. Tears form in her eyes again.

“I was there to tell her that I had a girlfriend.” Damien spits out. “Come here, baby.” he tells Cassie, but it’s not a suggestion. It’s a demand.

“I showed you the photo, babe. They weren’t just talking, she brought him to the back. That only means one thing.” Patrick says.

“Don’t you dare fucking call her babe.” Damien roars out, fists clenching and itching to smack Patrick right across his distasteful face. “It’s not what you think! We couldn’t talk out in the open, it’s too loud!” Damien defends.

“Right, because telling someone to fuck off because you have a girlfriend is such a long conversation.” Patrick says, words dripping with a cruel sarcasm.

Cassie looks at them back and forth like she’s watching a tennis match. She looks equally sad and confused. Eventually, she closes the distance between her and Patrick. Damien doesn’t get angry like he thought he would. His heart just shatters into a million pieces. It sinks in that he could very well lose the one good and positive thing he has in his life.

They start to walk off to Patrick’s car, and Damien begins to panic internally. “Cassie…” Damien says, and his voice sounds heartbroken. It makes her turn back around. He approaches slowly and whispers low, next to her ear: “Don’t go with him. I know him. He’s taking advantage of you. Please, listen to me.” he says desperately.

Cassie just pulls away and shakes her head before getting into Patrick’s car. The two drive off, leaving him standing alone.


	22. twenty-two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible TW in this chapter: violence, sexual assault
> 
> Word count: 1,592

There is no known universe where Damien would just sit idly by in his bedroom waiting for Cassie to text him and let him know it’s all okay. Because it won’t be. Damien knows Patrick. He’s a pervert, he’s disgusting, he treats women like objects. Damien will be damned if Patrick gets to lay a hand on Cassie. She doesn’t know what he’s done in the past.

After their car left and Damien had punched a tree _hard_ , he picks up his phone. “Logan, I’m picking you up.” he says angrily as his car speeds into Logan’s driveway.

“What?” Logan asks, confused and blocking his other ear but he can still hear Elliot laughing at something on the TV in the background.

“Tell Elliot to hold the fort down for Louis. I’m almost at your door. We have business to attend to.” he growls.

“What do you mean?” Logan asks, moving to another room, eyebrows furrowed.

“Cassie. She’s with Patrick.” he says, and Logan’s stomach drops. He understands completely.

“Fuck, yeah, okay, I’ll meet you outside. _E— stay here and watch Louis. Dame’s got an emerg—_ ,” he says and hangs up. Damien’s car stops abruptly in front of Logan’s house, and the boy quickly bounds out the door and into his car. Before Logan could even close the car door properly, Damien’s already speeding off to Patrick’s house.

They spend the short car ride in a tense silence. Damien’s mind is just racing with all the grotesque images that he’s coming up with. Memories of Patrick telling the boys exactly what he did to those other women, all the different ways he hurt them. All the different ways he could hurt Cassie. With each scenario, his knuckles get whiter and his grip gets tighter on the steering wheel. He’s struck with a pure, blinding rage. He hasn’t felt this in a long time and, even then, he doesn’t remember it banging against his heart this painfully.

Logan is just worried. Anybody who knows Patrick knows what’s happening in his house right now. It’s disgusting. Gut-wrenchingly disgusting. Logan can’t believe he would do it to the most innocent of people. His blood boils in anger when he thinks about what he’s doing.

When the car finally stops in front of Patrick’s house, they step out. They don’t bother knocking, know he won’t answer. Damien takes out his gun and shoots at the lock once. The door swings open.

“What the fuck?!” Patrick yells in shock from the lounge, moving away from where he had Cassie pinned down onto the couch. She’s crying hard, makeup running, and her skirt looks pushed up forcefully. Her shirt is wrinkled, her cheek has a vague imprint of a hand, and her wrists are a sickening scarlet from where he held it down. To her credit, Damien sees him sporting a slightly red and swollen eye.

Damien has never felt anything quite like this. It’s his worst nightmare coming true, right in front of his very eyes. His stomach dropped, his heart shattered, his blood heated. Every single cliché in the book started happening all at the same time. He can’t take it. His hands shake with rage and he let out a terrifyingly bloodcurdling yell. The sound ripped through the air, even making Patrick cower in fear.

He stares at Patrick with cruel eyes and hands balled up into tight fists. Just as he’s about to pounce on the man, Cassie immediately runs to him, burying herself in his chest in a fleeting attempt at solace. His anger gets trapped by his sternum, a sinking feeling dropping down to his navel. He forces himself to calm down when he feels her shaking and crying hard onto him, her hands gripping his shirt desperately as her shoulders convulse with sobs. As much as he wants to beat Patrick to a pulp, _and he really fucking wants to_ , he knows he can’t. He _has_ to focus on comforting Cassie. _She’s_ his priority. But he’s still eternally grateful when Logan advances on the older man, expertly mauling and punching like a rabid beast that can’t be stopped. With every loud crack, Damien releases a sigh of gratitude. Nobody fights quite like Logan does. If he wants you bloody and bruised, you don’t really have a say in the matter. He tears his eyes away from the vile man and brings it to the girl in his arms.

“Shh, baby, shh…” he says, rubbing her trembling back gently. The sounds of Patrick’s grunts of pain and Logan’s angry fist coming into contact with his skin fills the air. Yet, he tries to make her only hear his voice. He whispers sweet nothings into her ear to drown out the violence, clutching her safe into his arms. He doesn’t know how long they stayed like that. It could’ve been hours, it could’ve been seconds. It doesn’t matter because this infinite moment is all he knows.

Logan eventually stands back up with his fist dripping blood and face splattered from the impact of his blows. It’s easy to forget that Logan, the responsible and protective father, is actually a vicious fighter. He’s like an animal in a fight, especially when he’s blinded by rage. “He’s out cold.” Logan grunts, wiping his nose with the back of his hand and rolling his shoulders back. “I’ll bring him to the warehouse. I’ll take his car. You take her home. I got this. I’ll get him ready for you.” Logan says, eyes still dark with anger.

Damien gives his most sincere thanks and tells him to be careful, and Logan just waves him off before adding a few more blows to the still body on the floor. Damien quickly brings Cassie to his car and locks the door instantly.

In the secluded silence of his car, her cries ring much louder in his ears and hurt him tenfold. “Hey baby, talk to me.” Damien whispers, holding her hand tight in his. She whimpers, still crying but tries to speak anyway through her wobbly lower lip and her chattering teeth.

“I-I told him t-to stop… I c-couldn’t…” she says, crying even harder. “I should’ve l-listened t-to y-you. I’m an idiot.” she says.

His heart breaks at the sight, and he can’t wait to get his hands on Patrick. “Hey, none of that, love.” he says, rubbing circles on her hand with his thumb.

“He touched me.” she says, a fresh batch of tears flowing. “He touched me where I wanted only you to touch me. I w-was s-so scared he was g-going t-to take m-my v-virg…” she starts, voice shaky as she sobs louder, unable to even finish his sentence.

Every word she sputters out is like a dagger to Damien’s heart. The thought of Patrick’s dirty hands on her pure skin makes him want to vomit. He feels sick to his stomach. He should’ve fought more for her, shouldn’t have let her get into his car in the first place. And just like that, he feels an unbelievable amount of guilt— feels like this is all his fault.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay. You’re okay now. He can’t hurt you, he won’t touch you. I promise.” he says over and over again.

He feels so disappointed in himself. How could he let this happen? He vowed to protect her. He’s meant to keep her safe. The more he thinks about it, the more he hates himself with a burning passion. He feels like a stupid fucking idiot. And _she_ has to pay the consequences of _his_ actions. She’s the one scarred and crying, rocking back and forth in pain, eyes bursting with tears.

He doesn’t start the car back up until she’s passed out in exhaustion, wanting to give her his full attention and he just couldn’t do that while driving. When they get to her house, he picks her up bridal style and brings her to her room, knowing exactly where they keep the spare key. He quietly places her down on her bed and caresses her hair off her face gently.

He sends a quick text to his parents explaining the situation and telling them that he’s sleeping in her house, and also that he’s going to kill Patrick so they’re going to have to fill that position soon. He knows they’ll understand. They trust him over anyone else in the business. They won’t even second guess or think to ask any more questions.

He doesn’t wait for a response. Instead, he lays down next to her and she instantly cuddles herself into his side. She’s whimpering slightly, most likely from a bad dream, causing her to stir somewhat awake.

“Please. Don’t go.” she whispers, voice cracked and raw. Her eyes haven’t fluttered open, but she can feel him by her side, his distinct smell of cologne and cigarettes filling her senses and calming her down. She feels safe now.

He leans down closer to her with a silent promise. “I love you, baby. I’m not going anywhere.” he whispers into her hair. She digs herself closer to him and it tells him all he needs to know. She doesn’t have to say it back for him to understand how she feels.

When she settles back down and into a deep sleep, he scowls angrily at the ceiling. Tomorrow morning, he’ll tell her exactly what he wants to do to Patrick. But for tonight, he just wants her to feel okay again.


	23. twenty-three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! I was, in all honesty, expecting to get ten hits AT MOST, forget about kudos all together. The support is overwhelming and so inspiring! Thank you so so so much. Feel free to share/comment/leave me a cheeky message! x Lovely, every single one of you!
> 
> Possible TW in this chapter: explicit violence/torture, gun violence
> 
> Word count: 1,542

The warehouse is dark with a single light on Patrick’s body, limp and helpless on the ground. His eyes are open, but just barely. He’s conscious for sure. Damien smirks to himself. _Not for long_.

Every time he thought about the good times they had together, the laughs and the inside jokes, the time when Damien held his crying self as he went through a bad breakup, he would feel the urge to help his friend off the floor. But then he’d remember his hands on Cassie, silencing her with rough kisses when she tried to scream ‘no’ and ‘stop’, forcing his dirty fingers inside of her… and then he’d feel no remorse. A newfound anger would sweep its way back into Damien, and he would deliver another jab at the man below him.

“Fucking disgusting piece of shit.” Damien says, grabbing Patrick’s bleeding and unrecognisable face and spitting right on his forcibly shut left eye. There’s barely a spot of skin not black and blue, his left elbow is bent at an unnatural angle, and there’s blood _everywhere_. The scene is grotesque and disgusting and not for the faint of heart. Damien kicks Patrick’s ribs hard and is unfazed by the pained screams of his former close friend. Just the sight of Patrick alive makes Damien’s blood boil. He’s utterly transformed by anger. His hands clench into fists, knuckles split open from all the damage he’s done to Patrick. He’s grateful for the job Logan did prior, but Damien definitely added some severe damage himself.

“Please…” Patrick sputters out. “Don’t kill me.” he groans, tears falling down his cheeks.

“I won’t.” he says. There’s a short moment when Patrick feels nothing but relief and Damien lets him feel it. Lets him bask in his own hope. Then he punches his chest, causing Patrick to splutter out more blood. “But she will.” he says, head nodding towards the back corner of the room. Patrick’s stomach drops, a newfound feeling of dread spreading through his veins. He groans in pain as he tries to look at the general direction but all he sees is darkness… and then out from the shadows walks Cassie. Her eyes show a mix of trepidation and determination. “What the fu—,” he starts, but stops abruptly when she raises Damien’s black revolver right between his eyes. The carved words ‘ _sucks to be you_ ’ taunts him as it glistens in the low light.

“Shut the fuck up.” she says, and her voice doesn’t even quake. She would be lying if she said she didn’t feel any sort of adrenaline. Her blood is rushing and she feels alive. Damien feels a sense of pride at her bravery.

Never in a million years did Cassie ever think that she would be holding a real gun in her hands or that she would ever have the intention of shooting it. But yet here she is. Despite the underlying fear she feels in her gut, she wants nothing more than to see this man dead.

A few thoughts make her falter. Like the fact that this guy is somebody’s son. He might be someone’s dad, someone’s brother. Cassie’s sure he has perfectly good people around him that would mourn his death. She doesn’t think she could do that to anyone. But… she’s still here, pointing Damien’s gun right in front of his bruised face.

“You wouldn’t do it. Isn’t it a sin? You won’t pull the trigger.” Patrick taunts, bloody teeth bared at her. She doesn’t let it intimidate her. “You’re too scar—,”

She pulls the trigger.

As soon as the sound goes off, her hand flies back from the impact and she drops the revolver onto the concrete floor. Damien spits once more on Patrick’s lifeless body, a pool of blood expanding from underneath him.

Her knees go weak and she falls onto the floor, backing away from the blood. It sinks in. She just killed him. She doesn’t care about him per se but he has a family that will never see him again, a family that never got the chance to say their last goodbye to him. All because of her.

Damien puts the gun back in the gun sling concealed by his jacket and rushes over to Cassie, in a state of pure shock on the ground. “Hey baby, you did great.” he says gently, running his hands through her hair to calm her down. It works.

“I k-k-killed…” she stutters out, looking up at him in panic. Before she can finish out her sentence, she feels a wave of nausea hit her. She hunches over and vomits out the little contents of her stomach. He rubs her back in comfort. He doesn’t know anyone who didn’t throw up after their first kill. Actually, probably his mum.

“Don’t worry about it. You did the right thing. If you didn’t, he would have hurt other girls. Has hurt other girls. Baby, you did the right thing.” he says, and she calms down significantly, no longer breathing as heavily as she was. “He really is an awful man. He’s brought a lot of fear and terror down onto very innocent women.” he adds, and she stops shaking completely.

She nods her head and he pulls her in to kiss her forehead gently.

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=zj8acw)

The pair enter Damien’s home, Cassie much calmer than she was earlier. He got her to comprehend that she didn’t do anything wrong and she’s finally let the words truly register. Although she still feels bad, she understands that she’s not the bad guy here. If she didn’t do it, he would’ve kept hurting other people. In saying that though, she hasn’t left Damien’s side, remaining attached firmly by him like a security blanket. Even when he was driving, she made sure that she held the hand that was firmly on her thigh the whole time.

“Mum, dad, I’m home!” he calls out, closing the door behind them.

Instantly, his parents rushed towards the pair, gathering around Cassie.

“Are you okay, love?” she asks the young girl, who nods sheepishly.

“Are you sure?” Greyson asks, handing her a glass of water. She just nods once more, blushing brightly and sips the water quietly. They spot the bruises on her wrists and click their tongues in disapproval. She shies away, attempting to hide her hands away from their sight.

“He wasn’t able to do much.” she whispers, eyes on the floor.

“Did enough.” Natalia says in a low anger.

“I took care of him, mum. It’s okay now.” Damien reassures. His parents nod at him once before giving Cassie gentle hugs and retreating back to the kitchen. “Sorry ‘bout that. They just wanna make sure you’re okay… they know how much you mean to me.” Damien says with a shy laugh, kissing her on the cheek quickly.

She blushes and lets him take her up to his room. Once the door’s shut, she instantly latches onto him, her lips moulding into his. Although caught off-guard, he catches up quickly. She moans into the kiss and he takes advantage, deepening it. They fall back onto his bed and he flips them over so she’s underneath him. Just as it was getting more heated, more intense than it’s ever been with them, he pulls away.

“Wait, wait…” he says, panting a little bit. He looks down at her, eyes glossy and lips swollen, and it’s hard not to ravish her completely then and there. She looks like she wants more but he keeps her down on the bed. It only adds fuel to her fire. She doesn’t really know what’s happening, but she can’t control herself. She wants him, and she wants him now.

“Baby, this seems like it’s happening too fast. I mean… you’re still in shock.” he says gently, connecting their foreheads and looking into her eyes. She whines, palming his arousal through his jeans. He involuntarily hisses in pleasure. She’s really testing his patience.

“No, I’m not. Want you now.” she says. He takes a deep breath, trying to clear his head as she begins to grind herself onto him desperately. She’s never done anything like this before so her movements are sloppy and inexperienced but they make his head spin like no other girl has done.

“But I want your first time to be special.” he insists. And yeah, he doesn’t know jack shite about making anything special. But he figured some candles, some music, maybe rose petals— he’s going off what he sees in the rom-coms Pax forces him to watch. But it stands. He’s never had to make sex special for anyone, it was always just a quick fuck. With Eleanor, it was neither of their first times, so there was no pressure. Cassie is different.

“It’s special as long as it’s with you.” she says. She bares her neck in submission to him, a desperate whine coming out from her throat and making him dizzy. He kisses her neck expertly, leaving marks and bruises as he sucks and bites at her skin. He was planning to leave it at that, maybe make-out a bit more. But the second he hears her moan and beg, he loses all inhibitions.

“ _Please daddy_.”


	24. twenty-four.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I made mood boards and casting, and added it to the end of chapter one. Check it out if you want to visualise what I see when I write this story. FEEL FREE TO COMPLETELY IGNORE THIS! You don't have to imagine the characters as these people at all, it's just how I personally see them. All original photos belong to their respective owners.
> 
> Also, I'm flying out to Russia tomorrow for a two-week vacation, so I won't be able to update until then. Hope you guys understand and enjoy the chapter! As always, your support means the world. x
> 
> Word count: 1,575

The room gets darker as the sun goes down outside his window. Cassie lays next to him, asleep and curled up to his side. He smiles down at her and wonders how he got so lucky. A few months ago, he was in a deep rut. He was drinking all hours of the day, hurt the men he was interrogating more than necessary, sleeping with random women every chance he got and ditching them the second he was done with them. He was incredibly hurt and trying to get over Eleanor, the break-up leaving him in sharp pieces. Then he met Cassie. He smokes less, drinks less, is more responsible. He likes to think he’s more caring and compassionate, more sensitive. Maybe she really is good for him.

Cassie stirs next to him, lazily opening her eyes and swinging an arm around his chest. He kisses her forehead gently. “How you feeling, princess?” he asks and she blushes. After all this time, she still gets shy whenever he calls her nicknames. It makes his heart swoon.

“Good. Glad I’m with you.” she says, cuddling closer to him. “Also sore.” she adds and he laughs loudly, shaking his head at her. “Seriously. I didn’t even think it would fit!” she exclaims and it was his turn to blush. Of course, he got comments and praises like that from countless women before, but none of them mattered until now.

“Shh.” he says bashfully, kissing her to keep her from making any more comments. When he pulls away, she climbs on top of him to straddle his hips. He raises his brow at her. “Again? I thought you were sore.” he teases, and she giggles, hitting his chest playfully.

“Just wanna appreciate you from all angles.” she says. He chuckles, grabbing her waist and bringing her back down without any effort. His dominance makes her bite her lip to prevent herself from moaning. “What are your plans for tonight?” she asks, arms still around him.

Damien huffs. He doesn’t really want to tell her the truth, but he also hates lying to her. He tries to figure out a way to sugarcoat it, but she catches onto his hesitation.

“You can tell me.” she urges quietly. “I mean, after all, I _have_ killed a guy.” she says lightly, nudging his side playfully. He shouldn’t laugh, but he does. He kisses her temple before responding.

“I’m just gonna visit Pax.” he says.

“Visit?” she asks.

“Yeah, he’s in the hospital. He… ah, he got into a really bad car accident on the way home from Logan’s the other day, been in a coma since. Haven’t had time to check up on him because you know… the whole Patrick thing happened.” he says.

The look on her face is exactly why he didn’t want to tell her. He knew she’d feel guilty, take all the blame. So before she could even voice out her opinions, he cuts her off. “Honestly babe, I’m not mad about it. You needed me. Don’t feel bad. And anyways, I get to see him tonight.” he says, and she deflates slightly but nods in defeat anyway. She can’t deny how much she needed him.

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=zj8acw)

When Damien gets to the hospital, he’s met with Tyler and Rose arguing outside Pax’s room in a full on screaming match. As he approaches, Logan looks at him with a bored expression on his face and a shrug.

“ _I’m_ his girlfriend!” Rose says defensively.

Tyler seems to only get angrier at this. “ _I’m_ his emergency contact! That trumps _you_! And anyways, you’ve known him for like a month. He’s been my best friend since we were _kids_.” he growls.

“Woah, what the fuck is happening?” Damien asks. Both of them snap to look at him with matching expressions of rage.

“Rose is mad because the nurses let Tyler stay the night every night and she’s on strict visiting hours.” Logan fills in with a yawn. “This argument has been going on for a while.” he adds for context. Damien isn’t surprised.

Of course Tyler would never leave Pax’s side. He would definitely rough it on an uncomfortable make-shift bed for days on end. He would definitely skip meals just so he could stay by Pax’s side all day. He would definitely put his entire life on hold just to be with the boy who wasn’t even conscious. Damien knows this because Tyler’s done it before. Every time Pax is sick or in the hospital for whatever reason, Tyler does it.

Before Damien could open his mouth to reply, a nurse comes out of Pax’s room. “Tyler?” she asks. Tyler quickly runs up to her, forgetting about the argument entirely. Rose is hot on his tail. The nurse grimaces slightly at Rose, but she doesn’t catch it. “Paxton’s just woken up.” she says, and Tyler exhales a giant sigh of relief. _He’s alive, he’s gonna be okay_. “As his emergency contact, you can go see him first.” she says. Tyler thanks her profusely, and shuts the door on Rose’s “ _but I’m his girlfriend!_ ” to the nurse.

Pax blinks his eyes open and smiles as soon as he sees Tyler. “Hi.” he says, flinching at his hoarse voice and burning throat. Tyler immediately runs to him and engulfs him in a massive hug.

“You fucking scared me.” Tyler says, clutching onto him like a lifeline. “Don’t speak. Not until you have some water.” he says, grabbing the water from his side table and placing the straw on Pax’s lips. “They just removed your feeding tube earlier today. That’s why your throat hurts so much.” he says. And Pax really loves him. He just understands him, and he’s so full of empathy. Pax sips through the straw and feels like a child, but can’t bring himself to care too much. After he finishes half the cup, Tyler sighs. “Do you remember what happened?” he asks quietly.

Pax looks at him and cocks his head to the side adorably. “Yeah, I think… I was driving home from Logan’s and this car came out of nowhere. I think?” he says in confusion, face scrunching up as he struggles to remember. Tyler almost coos at the expression. “You were my last thought.” he says surely, definitively. “Didn’t want to die without you there.” he says.

Tyler almost cries. He feels the tears brimming behind his eyes, so he hugs Pax again tightly. “You’re okay, though. You’re fine. God, you scared me so much.” Tyler mumbles. “You were under for almost three days… and your heart stopped for a full two minutes.”

Pax pouts, hugging Tyler back. He looks around the fairly empty room and sees the chairs pushed together with a pillow and a thin blanket on top. “You stayed the night?” he asks, eyes sparkling. Tyler pulls away and laughs, fake punching him in the shoulder.

“Obviously, you idiot. I stayed all nights. When do I not?” he asks and Pax beams up at him. Then he pauses, looking unsure. “When you were… when you were unconscious…” he says slowly. “Could you hear anything?” he asks quietly.

Pax looks at him confused. “Um… no? I don’t think so?” he says. “Why?”

Tyler looks both relieved and disappointed. “No reason.” he says.

Then the door is being shoved open and their little bubble of tranquility is popped. Pax looks at the direction and sees Rose, fighting off a nurse. He smiles at her. “Baby!” he exclaims. Rose sticks her tongue out at the nurse in defiance before rushing to his side.

“How are you?” she asks, rubbing his arm gently.

“Peachy keen.” Pax says impishly and she laughs. Tyler sighs from the side, already forgotten about, as the two share gentle kisses and intertwine their fingers.

“I was so worried about you.” she says.

He giggles. “Best girlfriend ever.” he says, bopping her nose. And Tyler’s heard enough. So he marches over to the mini fridge at the corner of the room and takes out two cups of ice cream from the freezer.

“The nurses said that this will help with the sore throat. Got them from Mary’s.” Tyler says and Pax perks up like a little kid as he’s handed the mint chocolate chip. His favourite.

She takes the other one and Tyler frowns slightly. “Ew, cookie dough.” she says, pushing it away from her and causing it to fall onto the floor. Tyler’s frown deepens. _But that’s Tyler’s favourite_ , Pax thinks. “I like yours better, babe.” she says and Pax tilts the ice cream towards her. She has a scoop and Pax feels guilty. He sees the look on Tyler’s face and feels awful. He tilts it to him next.

“Have some!” he offers with a smile, and Tyler just shakes his head.

“Got it for you.” Tyler says simply. He watches Rose cuddle into Pax’s neck and he feels sick to his stomach. “I’m just gonna go…” he says slowly. “Um, I’m behind on a few of those records for Logan’s upcoming fight, so…” he says, beginning to leave the room. “Bye.” he says without even turning back to look at Pax.

“You’re mad at me.” Pax says with a pout. Tyler sighs.

“I can never be mad at you.” he says quietly, almost to himself but Pax definitely hears it. Rose doesn’t. “I’ll see you later, okay?” he adds, still facing the door, and leaves without waiting for Pax’s response.


	25. twenty-five.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! I'm back from Europe! Hopefully there's at least a few of you still interested in this story haha
> 
> Also - I had an idea for another story and I'm currently writing it along with this, so keep an eye out for it when it comes out! x
> 
> Possible TW in this chapter: mention of drugs, mention of self-harm
> 
> Word count: 1,252

Pax lays in his hospital bed, frustrated. His head won’t stop throbbing, no matter how much he sleeps or how much Advil he takes. But Tyler helps, he always helps. Despite the bad ending the two of them had after he woke up, Tyler still came back later in the day with freshly baked cookies and hot chocolate. They spent the whole night devouring them and going on a Harry Potter marathon. Rose says that Pax is a Slytherin, just like her, but Tyler knows that he’s really a Hufflepuff.

“You need to get off that shit excuse for a bed.” Pax says, scooting to the side and wincing when the quick movement caused his vision to blur.

And even though the only light in the room is the soft glow of the moon outside, Tyler still immediately catches on. He likes to pay attention to Pax. “Hey, hey, be careful! Your head’s still recovering.” he says tenderly. “And no, that bed’s yours. You need to be comfortable. I’m fine right here.” he says stubbornly, tapping the chairs underneath him to prove a point but both boys grimace at the hard-knocking noise.

“Doesn’t sound fun.” Pax notes, and okay, Tyler can’t argue with that. “And anyway, I can’t be comfortable if I know you’re not. So get your ass over here.” he says, fluffing the pillow for good measure.

With a defeated huff, Tyler stands up, his back cracking loudly as he does, and gets into the bed next to Pax. They’ve cuddled before, this is nothing new to them. Pax immediately leans his head on Tyler’s shoulder, as if on instinct. It feels warm and welcome and familiar. The only home they’ll ever have.

“I can’t believe you were willing to sleep on that thing until I got out.” Pax says in disbelief and releases a small chuckle that makes his shoulders shake.

“Yeah. For however long you need to get better.” Tyler says like it’s obvious. “S’not about me. It’s about you.”

“ _Thank you_! At least you get it.” Pax grumbles. Tyler looks at him with a raised brow— or as much as he can look at him with the boy’s head buried into his neck. Pax sighs dramatically. “Rose is mad at me. She wants me to get discharged because she’s getting lonely and she says I’m fine anyway.” he grumbles.

Tyler rolls his eyes. “You’re worth all the sacrifices.” he says, voice small.

Pax smiles into him anyway. He always hears Tyler, even when he’s trying to be quiet. He likes to pay attention to Tyler. “Thanks, Ty.” he says, nuzzling into the older boy. “She’s great though, isn’t she?” Pax says with a smile.

Tyler’s heart drops. “Uh, yeah.” he says tightly. “I mean, as long as you’re happy. Better than she-who-must-not-be-named.” he says with an overly dramatic spooky tone. Pax nods, laughing loudly.

“Yeah.” he says, hand lightly gripping Tyler’s hoodie. “Also, you haven’t worn the shirt I bought you last week.” he says suspiciously, poking the garment that _wasn’t_ his present. Suddenly, his face morphs to insecurity as he raises his head to face Tyler properly. “Do you hate it? I wasn’t sure about the colour. I mean, you look great in that sunset orange thing but like I wasn’t sure if it was too bright for you. I can switch it out for a—,”

“You’re rambling.” Tyler says with a chuckle. Pax blushes but pouts nonetheless, and Tyler feels god awful. Pax had gotten him a _Back to the Future_ shirt, because he knows it’s his favourite movie and he just couldn’t _not_ get it when he saw it. And Tyler loves it, loves it so much… but he can’t wear it in public. He only wears it when he’s alone, to bed. When nobody sees his arms. “I love it, P. You know I do.” he says sincerely.

“Then why don’t you wear it?” Pax asks insecurely. It’s often easy to forget that he’s only twenty-two. He’s lived through so much pain and hardship, having everybody in his life betray him or give up on him. He’s killed and hurt, and all of it adds up. But really, he’s just a kid at heart.

“I…” Tyler starts. He can’t tell him unless he tells him about his… habit. “It’s complicated.” he grumbles. But he can’t lie to Pax. He is the one person he’ll never lie to. “I just… I’ve been doing some stuff and my arms… ugh, I can’t explain.” Tyler says, unable to meet his eye as he twiddles with the ends of his hoodie, pulling it more down over his knuckles.

“Ty… if you can’t tell your best friend what you’ve been doing, you shouldn’t be doing it.” Pax says seriously. A beat and Pax considers his biggest suspicion. “Heroin? Because if you’ve been shooting up, we can get you through rehab. Get you clean.” he says with care.

Tyler wants to cry. He knows how hard it is for Pax to talk about heroin since his brother overdosed when he was only twelve. They weren’t close at all but it had still hurt Pax astronomically. Tyler likes to think it’s a great show of how empathetic the boy really is. The fact that that’s what was weighing the most on Pax’s mind makes Tyler feel so guilty. He’s hurting his best friend. “N-no… it’s not heroin. I promise. I’d never.” he says. “We pinky swore, remember?” he says with a small smile, thinking fondly of the memory they shared when they were twelve and fifteen respectively.

“So what is it?” Pax asks, although he feels a big weight off his chest at the comfort that it’s not opioids.

“I c-can’t say it… I’ll show you. I just can’t say it.” Tyler says, feeling an onslaught of shame. “But before I do, just know that I’m getting help, okay? I am, I swear.” he says. Pax nods slowly, unsurely. With shaky hands, Tyler lifts up his hoodie sleeves and for the first time in his life, willingly reveals the angry red scars. Some are fresh, some are old. Since it’s dark, he can’t fully see the gruesome nature of Tyler’s arms but it’s enough to make him want to throw up. He feels his stomach churning, not from the actual sight but from the thought that he never knew. He should’ve known, but he didn’t. He wasn’t there for his own best friend.

Tears instantly form in Pax’s eyes at the thought.

“I’m sorry.” Tyler whispers brokenly. Pax shakes his head and brings the arms up to his chest, holding them tight against himself. He begins to kiss every inch of the older boy’s arms that he could, whispering “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you” in between each gentle peck. When he’s satisfied and finished, he still keeps Tyler’s arms close.

“You said you’re getting help?” he asks earnestly.

Tyler nods. “Y-yeah. The Blacks have been lovely. I see Dr. Ross twice a week. She’s been good. I’ve cut down my average from seven cuts a day to three. So… progress.” he says with the slightest hint of a smile. It’s so easy to talk to Pax. He never feels like he’s going to be judged or misunderstood.

“I’m proud of you.” Pax says instantly, pulling his best friend in into a tight hug. “We’ll get there eventually. Together.” he promises. Tyler smiles and nods, relaxing into the hug.

“Together.”


	26. twenty-six.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible TW in this chapter: fighting, injuries, blood
> 
> Word count: 1,340

The room is gritty and dark, only a few flickering lights illuminate it. Despite it, the room is absolutely buzzing with energy. The crowd is cheering and screaming and nobody’s even come out onto the ring yet. All the seats are taken but people are happy to stand, happy to just be there.

Cassie was initially nervous being surrounded by so many rowdy people that look like they’ve spent their entire lives in a biker gang but Damien’s reassuring and firm hand stays on her thigh and it makes all the nerves disappear completely. She feels like she’s adjusting really well to his world and she’s never really that scared anymore as long as he’s with her. She’s quite proud of herself for that.

“Where are Tyler and Pax?” Cassie asks the two boys.

“Well Pax is still in the hospital, should be his last night though.” Damien tells her.

“And Tyler?” Cassie asks.

Elliot snorts. “Anywhere Pax is, Tyler’s right by his side. Honestly, they’re like magnets.” he says as he goes back on his phone, texting some random girl he met at the restaurant before coming over to the match.

“I didn’t know they were dating.” Cassie tells Damien, nuzzling closer into his arm. He coos at the sight and kisses the top of her head quickly.

“They’re not. Pax is straight, so.” he says like that explains everything. Cassie just looks at him in confusion. “Erm, well, like Tyler’s very obviously in love with him, and they’ve been best mates for years, like way before they were a part of the family business— childhood best friends, met-in-the-sandbox-when-they-were-toddlers kind of thing. So he’s been in love for like, I think it’s seven years or so. Give or take. I think Pax is in love with him too, but he says he’s ‘straight’ so he channels that love platonically, I guess? I don’t know, I don’t really buy it, to be honest. But in any case, he’s dating Rose.” he says.

“That’s sad.” Cassie says, and Damien shrugs. He’d rather not talk about, or for, his friends. Especially when they’re not there.

“The match is about to start.” Damien says, and that’s the end of the conversation.

Music blares as the announcer yells Billy Raymond’s name. A large man on the heavier side of heavyweight jumps into the ring. He’s yelling and grunting like an animal, angrily jumping around and making the crowd hype up. Logan smiles from the shadows because he knows he’s tiring himself out. When the announcer calls out Logan’s name, he slides into the ring between two ropes in his signature black and gold. Compared to Billy Raymond, he looks like a twig. Like someone who could easily be snapped in half. It’s almost comical. He’s cool and collected, but his eyes scald with a burning intensity.

“That guy’s massive… what if Logan loses?” Cassie asks, biting her nails.

Elliot and Damien snort simultaneously. “He won’t.” they say in perfect unison.

“How do you know?” she asks, looking unsurely at the large man.

Elliot shrugs. “Because he was told to win.” he says simply.

“And Tyler’s gotten the bets for his favour. If he loses, Tyler gets in trouble too.” Damien tells her.

The two stand in front of each other. Logan has to look up to face him, and his lean frame looks three times smaller than the man in front of him. Yet he doesn’t look the least bit worried. His eyes show determination and he smiles cheekily at the angry and grunting man, egging him on. They bump gloves and back up to their respective corners, the crowd waiting in anticipation for the bell to clang loudly.

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=zj8acw)

“Good match, mate.” Damien teases with a smirk, leaning back against the sofa of Logan’s green room, his arm behind Cassie. Logan’s face is bloody, his chest has multiple scratches and bruises. He slumps in exhaustion on the sofa opposite him, sitting next to Elliot, and leaning on the arm rest for support.

“Cut it a bit close.” Elliot says with a scoff. “Knock him out in the last minute?! Could’ve easily lost that one.” he says.

“Yeah well, it wasn’t exactly an easy match.” Logan fires back grumpily and sits up, hissing at the sharp ache in his ribs. He spits blood out onto the bucket in front of him and releases a heavy sigh. “So fucking tired.” he mumbles to himself.

“You still won, though!” Cassie says with an enthusiasm that matches the sun’s rays. It doesn’t quite fit in the dreary room, but it makes Logan smile nonetheless.

“Barely.” he says as he unwraps his hands of the boxer’s tape, dropping the dirty and bloody cloth into the bucket. It reveals harsh red knuckles, some split open and bleeding, but it doesn’t seem to faze him in the slightest. She eyes them nervously.

“Well, makes for a more interesting fight.” she says, and he chuckles. Well, attempts to. The shaking causes him to groan in pain.

The door opens and two men in white uniforms walk in. They bring a case of equipment each with them and set up right next to the sofa where Logan sits.

“Medics. _Our_ medics.” Damien whispers into Cassie’s ear, explaining it to her as soon as he saw her confused expression. “We can’t take him to a hospital, it’ll raise a lot of questions. And after all, it’s an illegal betting match. But Smith and Robert… they’re the best, and they take care of him after each match.”

She nods, watching in curiosity as they gave him a small glass vial and a brand new syringe. He takes it in his hands and like routine, he bites the cap off and keeps it between his teeth as he pierces the top of the vial and takes in the proper dosage into his syringe. He shoots it into his system without a single hesitation and sighs in relief, dropping the cap into his hands and handing the items back to the doctors.

He looks at Cassie and gives her a small smile of reassurance. “Morphine. Helps with the pain.” he says as Smith takes a damp cloth and begins wiping the blood off his face. He winces slightly as it goes over some cuts, but otherwise doesn’t react.

Robert touches his right ribcage, applying gentle pressure, and then does the same on the left, the more bruised and swollen side. Logan groans in pain then, a slight crack being heard. “Broken again.” Robert grumbles. Smith hands him an ice pack and Logan presses it against his side.

Smith crouches in front of him with a small flashlight. He widens Logan’s eyes and flashes the light directly into them. He inspects for a bit, asking Logan to follow the movement of his finger a few times. “No concussion this time. Nice.” he says with a friendly smile.

“Still feel like the loser.” Logan grumbles with a scoff, and Smith chuckles.

Robert touches Logan’s right shoulder, and he swats him away in pain, nearly hitting him in the eye. “Oi! Watch it.” he glares, but Robert just laughs.

“Calm down, champ.” he says. “It’s dislocated. I’m just going to rotate your arm around the joint until it’s back in its socket.” he explains. Damien instantly covers Cassie’s ears, saving her from the gut-churning popping noise. Even Elliot grimaces at the noise.

“FUCK!” Logan exclaims at the burning sensation but instantly feels relief in his shoulder. He glares at Robert and moves his shoulder around, trying to get used to the feeling.

They clean up the remainder of his cuts and apply an antibacterial ointment before wrapping them up neatly. The blood’s all gone and the most gruesome of the injuries are all covered up.

As they’re leaving the room, Elliot smiles at him. “There you go! Looking good as new!” he says happily.

“Louis ready.” Damien nods with a reassuring thumbs up.

“Thanks, boys.” Logan says with a laugh, shaking his head.


	27. twenty-seven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I've recently started a new story :) It's not nearly as dramatic or angsty as this one, it's more fluffy and pleasant, but it would mean a lot to me if you would check it out! I'm having a lot of fun writing it at the moment so hopefully you guys like it too. x
> 
> ANYWAYS, I love this chapter, it was so fun to write hehe
> 
> Possible TW in this chapter: blood, (short) torture for punishment, sexual themes, mention of drugs
> 
> Word count: 1,886

Damien’s in the middle of rolling a spliff when Cassie bounds inside. He looks up from his spot on the desk and instantly smiles at her. She’s wearing a pink pleated skirt with a single white line at the bottom, the perfect length to be both respectable but make you want more when she bounces around. Her white billowy blouse is tucked into the skirt, highlighting her small waist. She’s wearing long over-the-knee grey socks. Her hair is in pigtails and she wears the flower crown Damien gave her on her head. She looks mouthwateringly innocent, but she knows what she’s doing to him. He loves that she’s got another side of her that nobody else gets to see.

“Hi.” she says, somewhat shyly.

“Didn’t expect you to pop by. Come here.” he says happily, patting his lap. She closes the door behind her and skips to him, plopping down on his lap. “You look absolutely beautiful, baby.” he says, blowing raspberries onto her neck and making her giggle, legs flailing. “I like this skirt.” he says, inching his hand higher up her thigh and under her skirt.

“Thank you. It’s new.” she says with a grin. She tells him about her day, about cheer practice and yearbook committee, as he finishes up his spliff. He licks the side and wraps it up tightly.

“Sounds like a jam-packed day.” he tells her, looking at her fondly, and she nods.

“What are your plans for today?” she asks, and he looks slightly uneasy.

“Uhh...” he says, placing the spliff in a Ziplock filled with other perfectly rolled joints. Before he can say anything else, the door opens once more. Pax pokes his head in with a grin. He walks over to them and snatches two from the bag and Damien rolls his eyes at him. “What do you want, Pax? Other than _my_ spliffs.” he says.

“Hey, medical marijuana will be good for my recovery.” he says matter-of-factly. “But for real, you’re meeting with Jonas and Ferguson in ten. Elliot’s already there.” Pax tells him, grabbing Damien’s lighter from the table and placing the spliff in between his teeth.

Damien rolls his eyes with a groan. “Fuck, alright. Sorry princess, I got business to attend to.” he tells her, tapping her thigh as a signal and she jumps off his lap with a pout.

“You’re not taking her?” Pax asks with raised brows, puffing out smoke.

Damien shakes his head. “No way.” he says firmly.

“Take me where?” she asks, cocking her head to the side curiously.

“Damien used to take Eleanor to his meetings all the time.” Pax says. Damien instantly glares at him but just suppresses a laugh. He doesn’t even have the decency to look the slightest bit guilty.

“What? Why did you take her and not me?” she asks, hurt evident in her voice.

Damien groans and punches Pax’s arm, who just laughs despite the pain. “Get out, Pax.” he grumbles. Pax gives him a cheeky hug that he doesn’t return and leaves the room, leaving a cloud of smoke behind him.

“Why?!” Cassie demands, foot stomping angrily.

“Because Eleanor was not new to my world, okay? Her brother was a con artist. She used to help out during my meetings. It’s no big deal. I just want to keep you safe.” he says, placing his hands on her waist. She scowls at him, unconvinced. He sighs, placing his forehead on hers. “Why are you being so stubborn?” he asks in a low whisper.

She huffs in disbelief. “Because you did things with your ex-girlfriend that you won’t do with me.” she defends.

“Bad things. Illegal things. Dangerous things.” he says, eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m not a delicate flower, I’m tough too! I can handle it.” she says in frustration, on the brink of yelling.

“You’ll always be my delicate flower.” he says sincerely, kissing her forehead gently. Begrudgingly, it calms her down.

“Please. I can take it. I promise.” she pleads, looking up at him with wide eyes.

He sighs. “I’m so bad for you.” he mumbles to himself. “Fine, you can come.” he concedes. She squeals happily, kissing him quickly yet deeply. He growls in want when she pulls away, tightening his grip on her waist. “But with you dressed like this, you’re staying on my lap the whole time. Need them to know you’re mine.” he says, marking her neck with a love bite.

She bares her neck more in submission. “All yours, daddy.” she whimpers.

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=zj8acw)

When they arrive at the office, Elliot’s leaning against the door, smoking a cigarette. His eyes widen when he sees Cassie attached to Damien’s side. “Fancy seeing you here, Cass.” he says with a smirk.

“Hi.” she says with a smile. “Did you do the extra credit for Mr. Robinson?” he asks and Elliot snorts.

“What do you think?” he asks.

“I can send you my answers.” she says with a kind smile. Elliot’s mouth drops and he opens his arms wide.

“Oh my god, you’re a saint.” he says, giving her a hug as she giggles away.

“She better stay that way.” Damien grumbles.

“Here, take this as a token of my gratitude.” Elliot says, fishing out a strawberry flavoured lollipop from his pocket. She gasps happily and unwraps it instantly, sticking the candy in her mouth. Damien kisses her temple fondly.

They enter the office and Damien takes his place behind the desk. He pulls Cassie down to his lap, where she sits happily, legs dangling off his side easily. His left arm snakes around her waist to keep her there safe, and his right hand stays firmly on her thigh. She preens at the attention. “Alright, send them in.” he tells Elliot, who leaves the room to fetch the two. In a few seconds, in comes two forty-year-olds in suits. Jonas is bigger and has a full moustache, whereas Ferguson looks significantly more baby-faced, though the deep lines on his features give his age away. They look fairly intimidating with old scars littering their faces but Cassie isn’t even a little bit nervous. She knows Damien’s gonna keep her safe no matter what.

They glance at her in shock, and although her beauty is alluring, they know better than to look for too long. His possessive hands and the fresh love bite on her neck are clear enough indications that she’s not just some random girl to him. This is _his_ girl.

They raise their hands to shake Damien’s but he just looks at them, bored, with a raised brow. Awkwardly, they retract their hands and sit on the chairs across from the table. Elliot shuts the door behind them, firmly standing with his hands in front of him behind the two men.

“So you want to sell your firearms in our port.” Damien says, getting right down to business.

As the meeting continues, Cassie finds herself a little bit bored from just playing with the rings on his fingers and upset by the lack of attention from Damien. She begins to subtly grind down onto his lap, small but pert ass digging down onto his crotch innocently.

“You’re not being a very good girl for me, princess.” he growls into her ear, voice low and full of warning. It makes her want to wiggle around even more, and she almost smiles triumphantly. She feels her arousal stirring between her legs, and she knows she’s getting wetter by the second. To be fair, he’s showing an astounding amount of power and dominance _and_ he’s got his hand dangerously up her thigh. What’s a girl to do?

She whines quietly by his ear just so he can hear how much she wants him. He tightens his grip on her thigh but his expression doesn’t change. She’s upset by this. She wants to know that he wants her just as much as she wants him but he’s not showing her anything. She sucks on her lollipop grumpily, turning her face away from his.

“Behave.” he warns once more in her ear.

“I’m sorry, but is your girlfriend distracting you?” Jonas asks impatiently, voice spitting out the word ‘girlfriend’ like it burned his tongue. In the next second, the mood of the entire room shifts. Ferguson looks at him in disbelief, eyes wide and eyebrows shot up. Elliot tenses up behind him, knife ready in his hand, looking at Damien intently for the next order. Cassie looks scandalised, a shocked look on her face. And Damien looks absolutely livid, face stoic but eyes glowing with rage. _How dare he put her in his thoughts, in his mouth?_

Cassie turns to face Damien, an adorable pout on her pink lips. She pulls out the candy from her mouth with a loud and lascivious pop. “Daddy, he’s scaring me.” she says, knowing exactly what she’s doing. Elliot smirks at her antics, honestly, in disbelief at how much she’s changed in just a few months. He really didn’t think she had it in her. Ferguson gets increasingly nervous as he feels Elliot step the tiniest bit closer to them. Jonas’ face starts to morph into fear, realising what he’s done.

Damien turns to Cassie with sympathetic eyes, playing along with her games. “Is he, princess? Well we can’t have that, can we?” he says, kissing her nose quickly. He glances over at Elliot and subtly nods once.

Elliot leans forward and brings the blade onto his ear. “You’re not the sharpest tool in the shed, are you?” Elliot asks tauntingly. He uses his free hand to cover the man’s mouth and cuts a chunk of his ear off. Jonas screams into Elliot’s hand but he keeps a tight clamp to muffle the sounds of pain and terror. “A souvenir.” Elliot says with a chuckle as he drops the bloody ear chunk on his lap before stepping back. Jonas is trembling in his seat and Ferguson is anxious that he’s next. But Damien wouldn’t do that to him when he didn’t do anything wrong.

“Is that better, sweetheart?” he asks her. Cassie giggles and kisses his cheek sweetly.

“Yes. Thank you, daddy.” she says before sticking the lollipop back in her mouth.

“Manners, baby. Say thank you to Elliot. Be polite.” he scolds her in warning, pulling the lollipop from her lips.

She turns to face Elliot and smiles wide. “Thank you!” she says. He winks at her and smirks down at the shaking man. She turns back to Damien with expectant eyes.

“Good girl.” he says, patting her thigh in satisfaction as he nears the candy to her lips. She slowly sucks it down, making full eye contact, before grabbing the stick herself. Damien smiles knowingly at her as she jumps slightly, feeling his arousal digging into her thigh.

He turns back to the two men in front of him and it’s like he’s an entirely different man. Like a flip of a switch, he went from teasing, sweet, and flirty to dangerous, intimidating, and terrifying. “The next time you even mention her, you’re a dead man. You got it?” Damien growls, and Jonas nods quickly, clutching his bleeding ear desperately. Damien smiles once more, back to his usual impish nature. “Now, let’s get back to business. Shall we, lads?”


	28. twenty-eight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word count: 1,226

“Thanks for driving again, Damien. I don’t know what’s wrong with my car… wouldn’t start.” Logan says from the passenger seat. “Peanut, say thank you to Uncle Damien.” he says.

“Thank you, uncle Damien!” Louis exclaims from the back, where he plays with Cassie, a large smile on his lips.

“Ah, no need to thank me.” Damien says with a smile. Cassie and Damien were on their way to a breakfast date when he got a call from Logan asking if he can drive him and Louis to the parent-teacher conference at the pre-school. Damien didn’t even think twice before saying yes. “How are your ribs?” he asks Logan.

Logan rolls his eyes and slumps down against the car window. “Still broken. They’re getting there… slowly. Constant ice packs and whatnot. They’ll be fine, they always end up alright.” he says. “Honestly, it’s giving me time off from training, so it can’t really be that bad.” he says with a laugh.

“When’s your next match?” he asks him.

“Take a left here, it’s that building over— yeah, that one. The day after my ribs heal, probably.” he says with a snort. “They just wanna get as much fights out of me as possible. I’m sure I’m gonna die in the ring.” he says. Damien gives him a sad smile. “It’s okay, though. Puts food on the table for Louis. Gives us enough money, more importantly, gives him a good life. Can’t really complain.” he says.

Damien parks the car in the driveway of the colourful building. “Come on, Auntie Cassie! I wanna show you Mr. Snuffles! He’s the class rabbit.” he says excitedly as Cassie unbuckles him from the car seat they transferred from Logan’s car.

“Louis, no. They have plans, they were just doing us a favour.” Logan tells his son firmly.

Cassie giggles. “I don’t mind. I’d love to meet Mr. Snuffles!” she says.

Logan is about to disagree, already feeling like a massive burden on the pair, when Damien shrugs and speaks up. “I could mooch off the free cookies and juice boxes.” he says.

Logan smiles at them shyly as they get out of the car. Louis has Cassie in hand and is dragging her into the building, the two boys laughing behind them. “He really does like her.” Logan says.

Damien nods. “Who wouldn’t?” he asks.

They get inside and the room is covered in children’s art. There are toys everywhere and children running about, parents mingle around and speak to the teachers. “This was nothing like my pre-school.” Damien says with a smirk. “Much nicer.”

“Saved for a whole year to get him here.” he says with a proud smile. “Oh, there’s his teacher. Excuse me, I’m gonna go speak to him.” he says, walking over to the tall man.

Damien walks towards Cassie, where Louis is shoving his tiny face onto the glass box that held an all grey bunny. “Babe, this is Mr. Snuffles.” Cassie introduces with a smile, pointing towards the rabbit.

“He’s adorable, truly.” Damien says with a smirk. He crouches down and Louis hugs him instantly.

“I named him!” Louis says proudly.

“What?! Did you?! That’s the single most amazing name for a rabbit.” Damien exclaims and Louis claps his hands excitedly, laughing and beaming up.

“And I wanted— Auntie Ellie!” Louis exclaims suddenly, breaking his own train of thought. He jumps off from Damien’s lap and absolutely _sprints_. Damien’s eyes follow him and his heart sinks at the sight. He feels a surge of panic electrifies his veins.

He stands up quickly and turns away from the direction the toddler ran off to. “Babe, we should go.” he says instantly, grabbing Cassie’s wrist.

“What?” she asks, confused.

“We just have to—,” he starts, but is cut off.

“Damien? What are you doing here?”

Damien shuts his eyes and curses under his breath before releasing his grip on Cassie and turning around. “Hey, yeah, I drove Logan and Louis here. What are _you_ doing here?” he asks. Eleanor laughs and points at the man talking to Logan.

“Jack.” she says as an explanation. Damien can’t help but glare slightly at the _very_ handsome man. “I guess he’s Louis’ teacher.” she says, still holding the toddler’s hand.

“I missed you Auntie Ellie! How come I don’t see you anymore?” Louis asks with a pout. “I miss playing snakes and ladders with you.”

She makes quick eye contact with Damien before turning back to the toddler. “Oh um… I’m sorry, Louis. I missed you too.” she says, avoiding his question. “We can play again, I promise.” he says, bopping his nose, much to the boy’s delight.

“Damien?” Cassie asks from behind him, making him jump.

“Oh, sorry.” he says. “Um, Cassie, this is Eleanor. Eleanor, this is my girlfriend, Cassie.” he says. Just like that, a tension that had no place in a pre-school pulsed between the three. Eleanor takes the girl holding Damien’s hand possessively in. She’s wearing a white romper and white sneakers, hair flowing down with a flower crown on her head. She’s barely wearing any make-up, and she looks unbelievably pleasant. It contradicts Damien’s pierced and tattooed skin greatly; like day and night. Likewise, Cassie eyes Eleanor down. She’s in tight black skinny jeans that hug her legs perfectly and a tight sleeveless crop top. She looks like a bombshell, flat stomach and curves in all the right places. Cassie notices, much to her insecurity, that the two coincidentally match in their black jeans and burgundy coloured tops.

“Hi Cassie, so nice to meet you.” she says, hand out politely.

Cassie takes it but her smile is faltering. It’s not fair that his ex-girlfriend looks that good. She looks like a woman, and Cassie feels like a child next to her. “Yeah, nice meeting you too.” she says quietly.

“When are you gonna stop jacking my style, Black?” Eleanor asks him with faux anger, Damien laughing despite himself.

“Oh god, it’s _you_ who kept copying _me_! Remember Tyl—,” he begins but Eleanor shakes her head with a happily shocked expression.

“Do _not_ bring up Tyler’s 22nd! That was entirely your fault! So was the great Thanksgiving incident of 2017!” she exclaims, and the two fall into an easy shared laughter. Cassie seethes behind Damien. She hates how Damien and Eleanor share inside jokes that she’ll never understand, hates how Louis and Eleanor had a _thing_ , hates that Eleanor may have been a bigger part of his life than she is now. “Well… it was really nice seeing you again. Maybe we can go on a double date sometime.” Eleanor says with a smile.

“Yeah, we could do.” Damien says, scratching the back of his head with a smile.

“Come on, Auntie Ellie! Let’s play!” Louis exclaims, dragging her to the other end of the room. Eleanor gives them one last wave goodbye before disappearing into the crowd.

A few beats of silence, Damien not knowing what to say. “She’s gorgeous.” Cassie says, eyes cast down on the ground.

“So are you.” Damien says, grabbing both her hands and kissing her forehead gently. She doesn’t respond but her eyes are starting to water. “Come on. I’ll tell Logan we’ll pick him up in a bit. Let’s go get breakfast, yeah?”

She nods slightly and lets him hug her tightly.


	29. twenty-nine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word count: 1,525

Damien sits in front of Cassie, a plate of waffles and eggs fill the table between them. They’ve been sat for a while but there’s been a tense silence the entire time. Damien huffs, cutting into his waffle.

“I don’t understand why you’re mad.” Damien grumbles.

“You really don’t understand?” she challenges with a raised brow, poking around her plate of omelette, leaving the food untouched.

“Let me rephrase. I don’t understand why you’re mad _at me_.” Damien says. She wants to scream. She takes a deep breath and adjusts the flower crown on her head grumpily.

“I’m not mad at you.” she says stubbornly. She tries, and fails, to look intimidating.

Damien huffs in frustration, dropping his knife and fork with a loud clang against the plate. The noise makes her jump. “You gotta help me out, Cass. We’re just going around in circles.” he says, voice edged in anger. “I get it, you’re upset you met El. But I didn’t expect her to be there. I wasn’t trying to set you up or summat. And to be perfectly honest, she was really nice to you. I don’t really understand why you’re so angry. _She’s engaged_.” he grunts.

Slowly her scowl contorts to a pout, arms crossed over her chest as she listens to him speak.

“I’m sorry.” she mumbles. “I just… I didn’t expect her to be so _beautiful_. And… _skinny_!” she exclaims but she can’t meet his eyes in shame.

“You’re skinnier.” he insists.

“No, but she’s like, _hot_. A woman.” she grumbles, fork stabbing into her eggs.

Damien looks at her with all traces of anger gone. His eyes show a soft understanding. “Is that why you haven’t been eating your food? Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” he says gently. She almost cringes at how dramatic she sounds.

“No.” she lies, and even bites into her eggs to emphasise her point. He knows she’s lying, but he lets it go because she’s started eating.

“That’s good. If you were, which I know you weren’t, but if you were, I would say that was totally stupid because you’re so so so beautiful and you’re perfect, and you have nothing to worry about.” he says sincerely, then adds a cheeky smile when her eyes finally met his. “But good thing you weren’t.”

She can’t help the bubble of laughter that rises from her chest and stumbles clumsily out of her lips. He only smiles further.

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=zj8acw)

The move wasn’t _that_ bad. It had some beautiful cinematography, and subpar acting. It wasn’t all that awful. But they couldn’t help themselves from giggling every few minutes or from openly mocking the actors on screen with exaggerated expressions and flamboyant gestures. About fifty minutes in, they’ve had enough. So they stumble out of the cinema laughing and throwing kernels of popcorn at each other. “Who’s idea was it to see that god awful film?” Tyler asks as he throws a handful of popcorn towards Logan, whom he thought to be the culprit.

“Not me, man! It was El!” Logan exclaims, bumping the boy hard, and they all get into a fit of laughter as the boy lunges forward, catching himself on a nearby pillar.

“ _Hey_ , it wasn’t that bad!” he defends, lip pouting out.

“That’s just ‘cause you want to be Christian Grey.” Logan points out, and the boys erupt in laughter once more.

“Listen, okay, he’s a bajillionaire, and he gets a _ton_ of sex. Who wouldn’t want to be him?!” he asks, and well, the boys can’t really argue with that one.

In the middle of the cinema lobby, of Tyler cleaning out remnants of popcorn from Pax’s hair, and of Damien making a complete mockery of the plot of the film, a voice they hadn’t heard in over a year calls. A voice nobody wanted to hear ever again. “Oh my god, guys!”

Pax’s blood runs cold and he doesn’t have to turn to see who it was. An angry-eyed Tyler steps in front of him as if to keep him safe and block him from her view. He even keeps a possessive hand over the small of Pax’s back, to which he is so grateful. Pax grips hard onto Tyler’s jacket sleeve in support, feeling brought back to earth when he sees the _Back to the Future_ shirt he’s wearing underneath it.

“What are you guys doing here?” she asks with a big smile, eyes just as green as they all remembered.

“Well… we’re at a cinema. What do you think?” Damien asks, words sharp like a blade.

She laughs loudly. “You’re just as funny as I remember you being.” she says, giving him a playful nudge to his shoulder, but he remains stiff and cold. She turns her attention to Elliot. “Wow, have you been working out?” she asks, grazing his arm gently as she bites her lip, her eyes never losing contact with his.

“I have been actually, I just got a membership to this gym down by my street.” Elliot says and Damien nudges his side, hard. He instantly looks away and clears his throat, avoiding all eye contact with her.

“Logan! How’s beautiful Louis?” she asks with a sickeningly sweet smile.

“He’s fine.” Logan says curtly, jaw locked.

“That’s so good! I’m glad! He must be getting so big now.” she says. “Tyler! I almost didn’t recognise you.” she says. The boy grunts angrily because it’s all a lie. Ella Durden is a liar. She spent five years with him and Pax, saw him every day and lived with them in their ever-changing apartments. She split the rents with them, she even helped Tyler pay for his phone bill the one winter when he couldn’t.

Tyler doesn’t reply, just tries to burn a hole through the space between her eyes. He hates her with all his might. He remembers the night like it was yesterday. Tyler and Pax had gone home after secretly picking out a ring for her. Tyler helped the excited and enthusiastic Pax, even though it broke his heart. The box felt hot in Pax’s pocket, and although they were only twenty-one, they had been together for five years, through thick and thin, through the money and the coupon-bought meals, and he knew she was the one for him. They opened the door and there she stood with all her bags packed and some random guy kissing her against their kitchen table. “ _Finally, you’re home. Just wanted to say I found someone else, so I’m leaving_.” she had said, like it was so simple, like she was telling him she was gonna go get groceries, like they didn’t spend five years together.

Pax was an absolute wreck. He stayed in bed all day unless he had a job to do, in which he would go with red-rimmed, cold eyes. He didn’t speak to anyone except Tyler, who held him through all the nights he spent crying and screaming and angry. It took months to get him back up on his feet, and even more to get him to start trusting people again. Even then, it was only the boys. He wasn’t the Pax they had known, and Tyler was there through all of it. To put his broken pieces together again, to hold him when he was crying, to watch him mourn over someone who broke his heart when he was right there and could love him harder.

And here _she_ was, standing in front of them with the same simplistic casualty as that night. Like she didn’t cause all that damage.

“You look great.” she says.

Tyler is not above beating the living shit out of this girl.

“Just walk away.” he says harshly through gritted teeth.

“Nonsense! I haven’t even spoken to— oh, there you are, Paxy. How are you, baby?” she asks with a voice that drips poisonous honey.

Pax can’t breathe, he feels his airways closing up and tears welling in his eyes. All he can do is hide further behind Tyler, shaking and trying to keep it together, though he felt like he was going to pass out at any given moment. He feels like his world is collapsing around him. He feels everything he felt that night. Tyler turns his back on the girl, comforting Pax and trying to bring him back to him.

“Back the fuck away.” Damien warns, stepping forward.

“Woah, so defensive. Just wanted to say hi.” she says with a light laugh.

“Just fuck off, Ella.” Logan says.

She shrugs with another airy laugh and skips away towards a giggling group of girls.

“Babe, I’m right here. It’s okay, she’s gone. I’m right here. Shh…” Tyler whispers into his ear repeatedly, hugging him tight into his chest. Slowly, Pax calms down, and the tears stop falling from his eyes. “Do you want to come back to my house? I can make hot cocoa and I have fresh cookies.” he whispers. Pax chokes out a small laugh and nods onto his chest, wiping his tears.

“Text us when you guys get to yours.” Damien says and Tyler nods, clutching harder onto Pax.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The history of Tyler and Pax!
> 
> Possible TW in this chapter: bullying, physical violence, implied abusive father, implied homophobia, family rejecting son after coming out
> 
> Word count: 1,916

After a cup and a half of hot cocoa and four warm cookies, Pax passes out in Tyler’s arms. It doesn’t take long because he’s drained and Tyler is his home. So, it just made sense. Tyler watched the boy under his arm fondly, kissing the top of his head.

He had given the younger boy a large Cheer Bear t-shirt to change into when they got back to his place, Tyler wearing his own Bedtime Bear shirt to match, underneath an open black jacket. He smiles down at their matching shirts, trying not to cry at the memory. Trying not to cry as the entire history of them panned out in his head.

_Pax ran around the park’s playground, proudly sporting his brand new Cheer Bear lunchbox. She’s his absolute favourite. He had on a large smile and his eyes gleamed with excitement. “Look at my new lunch box!” he exclaimed to the nearest kid he saw._

_The kid looked at him in disgust. “Ew! Who likes Care Bears? You’re such a baby!” he exclaimed._

_“What? I’m not a baby…” he said, but his eyes started watering and his lip was beginning to quiver. A large group of kids had formed around him, all laughing and pointing. Pax clutched tightly onto his lunch box, crying and ducking his head. He hoped that maybe if he couldn’t see them, they’d magically just go away._

_“Hey! Get away from him!” a random voice called out. The other children looked back at the older boy, who grumpily eyed them. “Go on then! Leave!” he yelled. The children scampered off until it was just the two of them together. Pax was still crying, knuckles white from grabbing onto his precious lunch box so dearly._

_“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay now.” the older boy said, kneeling down in front of Pax. “Wow! I like your lunch box. But my personal favourite is Bedtime Bear.” he said with a grin. Pax slowly looked up, eyes still rimmed red with tears and snot running down his nose. “Where’d you get it? I’ll tell my mommy to get one too, and we can match!”_

_Pax giggled through the snot, and the sight of his smile makes the older boy grin wider. “I think she just got it in the grocery.” Pax said. “I’m Paxton. I’m five.” he said, wiping away the tears with the back of his hand._

_“I’m Tyler. I’m eight.” he said with a grin, going in to hug the younger boy tenderly._

_The next day, nobody made fun of Pax for his lunchbox because one of the older kids was sporting a very similar one._

♡

_Tyler walked into the school’s courtyard, intrigued, following the crowd that was forming. He had just gotten off the bus that took him and the rest of the math team to Indiana for the national competition. He was proudly sporting a gold medal around his neck. He had spent his entire high school life in the mathletes, and it had been his final competition with the team._

_He pushed through the crowd and what he saw made his eyes widen in shock._

_Pax was hunched over a much larger boy, one of the seniors, and was punching his bloody face incessantly. At fifteen, he had already gotten quite the reputation as a rebellious kid, and he had the temper to match it. He picked fights constantly, he had a couple of tattoos, and he didn’t care about authority. It didn’t matter that he was only a sophomore. Everyone was afraid of him, even teachers. And even if Tyler was one of the school’s resident nerds, nobody ever called him names or picked on him, because they knew they’d end up in the hospital by Pax’s personal doing. The one kid that tried ended up with six broken bones, needed intensive psychiatric care, and had to move schools._

_“Pax!” Tyler exclaimed. He wasn’t afraid, he was used to this. But he was sure that the kid he was hurting, Todd, did nothing wrong. They had an english class together, and Todd was honestly a sweetheart, wouldn’t hurt a fly. Unbeknownst to Tyler, Pax had been beating kids up the whole week he was gone because he missed him so much; this senior was no exception as he looked him in the eye while he passed._

_Instantly, Pax dropped the kid, turning back in shock. As soon as he saw Tyler, he smiled wide enough to split his face in two and ran towards the older boy, hugging him tightly. “Missed you.” he said._

_“Well, if you bothered to answer your phone instead of picking fights, you would’ve known I was already here.” Tyler said with a scoff._

_“You’re never leaving me again with these idiots. Still can’t believe you wouldn’t let me ditch school to come with you. Would’ve supported you the loudest.” he grumbled, ignoring Tyler’s words. “Proud of you, though. Gold! Knew you’d win. You’re the smartest.”_

_Tyler just chuckled, hugging the younger boy back. “Thanks, P. Why were you hurting Todd? He’s so nice.”_

_Pax shrugged but didn’t let go. “He looked at me. And I missed you, so.”_

♡

_Tyler showed up at Pax’s house at three in the morning. He had climbed his window, as usual, and stumbled into his bedroom. “Ty?” Pax asked sleepily, eyes adjusting to the darkness._

_“P-P-Pax…” Tyler sobbed brokenly. It was like a bucket of ice water was dumped on the younger boy. He stood up instantly and ran to where Tyler laid on the ground._

_“What happened?” Pax asked in a panic, clutching Tyler close to him._

_“I c-came out to my family.” he said, sobs racking his entire body. “And my d-dad t-old me I was a d-disgrace. He k-kicked me out! My mom didn’t even s-say anything! She just sat there d-disappointed.” he cried out, stuttering through the tears._

_Pax paled, stunned and at a lost for words. He held Tyler tighter than he’s ever done, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. It wasn’t long before he had tired himself out and passed out from sheer exhaustion._

_They both woke up still cuddled into each other but Pax had carried Tyler onto his bed. “How you feeling, love?” Pax asked, gently caressing Tyler’s hair._

_“Not good.” Tyler huffed, eyes heavy from all the crying he did the night before. “Still can’t believe they just kicked me out. Like, just like that.” he said, voice sounding incredibly small and broken. Tyler has known he was gay since he was fourteen and has been living in the closet for four years. No one except Pax knew. He knew his religious parents would be angry but he never thought they’d outright just cut him out of their lives. And if the angry text he woke up to from his mom is anything to go by, they don’t regret a single thing. “They even kicked me out of the family group chat.”_

_“They’re idiots. We’ve always known that. We watered down all their liquor for years and they never noticed.” Pax said and Tyler let out a small laugh. It made Pax smile despite the situation._

_Tyler glanced up at his best friend and instantly frowned as he saw fresh cuts and bruises all over his face. “What happened to you?” he grumbled, feeling guilty that he made it all about himself last night and didn’t even notice the injuries._

_Pax just shrugged. “Dad.” he said simply. They sat in silence, holding each other in understanding, for a few moments. “Why don’t we… why don’t we just leave?” he asked._

_“Huh?” Tyler looked at him questioningly._

_“Let’s just leave. We have each other, that’s all we really need. There’s nothing for us here anymore.” Pax said._

_In that moment, Tyler knew he was in love with his best friend._

♡

_Tyler gripped the relaxed younger boy’s hand tightly like he was the one in pain. “You need to relax, Ty.” Pax said with a chuckle, the tattoo artist hunched over his left arm and inking him permanently._

_“Doesn’t it hurt?” Tyler asked with a wince._

_“You ask me that every time. No, it’s fine.” Pax said with a laugh, but kept holding the older boy’s hand anyway. At seventeen, Pax already had a full sleeve of tattoos on his right arm, and he’s working on filling up his left. “Anyways, I’ll always get your art tattooed on me. Even if it hurt.”_

_Tyler shook his head but tried not to blush. “You’re ridiculous.”_

_Pax had over twenty of Tyler’s artworks inked into his skin, and he didn’t plan on stopping any time soon. To him, Tyler was the best artist out there— so why the fuck not? Pax pulled out his ringing phone and smiled as he saw the name that appeared on the screen._

_“Ella, baby! How are you?” he asked happily. Tyler scowled but hid it anyway. “Yeah, I’ll pick you up at eight. Sounds perfect. Love you too. Bye.” he said, hanging up the phone. Pax sighed, content. “Oh man, Ty. I can’t tell you how excited I am for our anniversary dinner tonight. One year, Ty! A whole twelve months! It’s gonna be amazing. I can tell she’s gonna be the one.”_

_“Happy for you, P.” Tyler mumbled, grip on his hand loosening the tiniest bit._

♡

_They ran like a well-oiled machine. Tyler would lure in tourists, asked them to place bets and kept track of it all. He created spectacles for large groups of people in the busy town’s square. Pax sat and fooled them all with various magic tricks, letting them win when Tyler told him to but always stealthily pocketing their jewellery, their wallets, and their phones. You wouldn’t think, but because they did it so well, they ended up earning an average of a hundred dollars in cash a day, not including the cost of the items they stole as well, which wasn’t bad all things considered._

_They’ve spent two years living in a pretty crappy apartment but they were never hungry and they always had each other. It was more than enough for them._

_Their families hadn’t even tried to get in touch with them. They truly no longer cared._

_“Sorry, man. Maybe next time!” Pax said with a smile. The man left in good spirits, only having lost five dollars by the gamble. Or so he thought. The younger boy pocketed the Rolex watch and smirked knowingly at Tyler, who gave him a discreet fist bump._

_It’s difficult to think of anyone else who hustled harder than these two. It was a hard combination to beat— Pax’s cunningness and swift hands that could steal a necklace off a woman who was just passing him on the street, along with the intelligence and careful calculations of Tyler to maximise their profit and remain under the radar._

_The pair laughed to themselves as another lady came by. “Hey ma’am, wanna try and find the Queen?” Pax asked, gesturing to the cards in front of him. “If you find her, you get ten dollars.”_

_The woman merely smirked. “I think you’ll find that you’re the one who’s found the queen.” she said with a devilish smile. “I’ve been watching you two for a while, and I’ve got to say. I’m impressed. I have a way to get you boys to make a whole lot of money. My name is Natalia Black.”_


	31. thirty-one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word count: 1,307

Elliot stretches in his centre splits in front of the mirror, chest down to the polished wooden floor. His face contorts in slight pain from not being in the studio lately, but he pushes through it. Some random Ed Sheeran song that’s been played through shuffle blasts through the overhead speakers and he focuses on that instead of the burning sensation coming from his hamstrings.

“Thought we’d find you here.” a voice he really didn’t want to hear says from the doorway. Elliot sits up easily and goes over to his phone, pausing the song and a displaced silence fills the large room.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, slipping into his disregarded shirt slung over a chair.

“We could ask you the same. Aren’t you meant to be in last period?” his mother asks, a brand new Birkin bag under her arm. His foster parents, Carlisle and Rosalind, look like the perfect image of class and elegance. Even being as young as they are, they've already climbed to the top of the business world. Because of it, it was easy enough to adopt due to their wealth and generosity to social causes, despite their age and lack of experience. They’ve always wanted loads of children but it wasn’t until they found out that Rosalind couldn’t have any kids of her own did they ever consider adopting. He doesn’t really know why they chose him. Foster parents usually want babies or toddlers, to give themselves the real experience of being a parent. They said that they were initially looking for a baby but when they were at the orphanage and first saw him, they instantly felt drawn to him. It was almost instinct.

“Touché.” he says. “My question still stands.” he says.

“Well… we wanted to introduce you to your new sister, Stella. Thought this would be the perfect place since she’s also a dancer.” Rosalind says. Carlisle enters the room with a young girl, maybe around twelve, holding his hand. She waves shyly at Elliot, whose jaw drops in shock.

He shouldn’t be so surprised. Carlisle and Rosalind always talked about adopting again, wanting another kid. Elliot always saw it as their subtle way of saying they want to return him and get someone else; it wouldn’t be the first time. Or the second. He just never thought he’d actually meet the other kid, seeing as he thought he’d be long gone by then. To be fair, they’ve been patient to him in ways that he feels like he doesn’t deserve. They’re kind and giving, and they understand that he’s guarded due to his awful circumstances, and they’re not offended when he shuts them out sometimes. He harbours an unfair grudge for them, for adopting him when he only had one year until total freedom and independence. He was almost free, almost able to put the whole thing behind him. But they took him in, took care of him. He’s had some awful foster parents but he honestly did luck out with them. They’re so lovely to him. _I really should try to be nicer to them_ , he thinks begrudgingly, suddenly feeling ungrateful.

“Oh.” he says because he suddenly has too much to say to them and he doesn’t know where to start.

“We’ll leave you to it.” Carlisle says with a warm smile, and for the first time in six months, he returns it. And he meant it. Carlisle and Rosalind look delighted, and they walk out with the biggest smiles on their faces and tears in their eyes.

When they’ve left, the distance between the two seem much too far and the silence much too palpable. “Hi.” Elliot says, walking towards her in an attempt to make her feel more at ease.

She smiles shyly at him. Okay, so she’s already much more pleasant than he was when he was first adopted. “I’m Stella.” she says quietly. “They told me you’re adopted too.” she says, not looking him in the eye as if she’s afraid it’ll offend him.

He chuckles and nods. “Yeah, I am. I mean, look at me. They would have had to have me at fifteen if I was their real son. And Rosalind would have some serious explaining to do, given that they're both super white.” he says, and this breaks the tension. She giggles and walks closer towards him, meeting in the middle of the studio.“So what’s your deal? With your birth parents I mean.” he says, sitting on the ground. She sits next to him and starts fiddling with her fingers. He sees a flash of sadness in her eyes, and he forgets that they’re not all as jaded as him. “Sorry. You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.” he says.

“No, it’s okay. I just… I don’t know.” she says. “Ding-dong-ditch baby. I was at McAndrew’s initially. I didn’t get moved to Leighton until like, two months ago. Overcrowding.” she says with a sad smile. “I’m... surprised. I never thought I'd get adopted.” she admits as an afterthought.

Elliot laughs. “Who does?” he asks cheekily and she giggles again. He smiles down at her, suddenly feeling a sense of protectiveness over the young girl. He firmly decides that she’s not allowed to date until she’s _at least_ twenty-two. He’s an asshole, he’s hurt many girls, and he doesn’t want anyone pulling a _him_ on _her_.

“What about you?” she asks.

He shifts on the ground and lets out a huff. “Well, let’s see… I was born in a trailer park. We didn’t have a lot of money, my parents were drunk most of the time, high for the times they weren’t. I mean, I was three years old and my dad was asking me to fetch beers for him. When I was four, I dropped a beer and it shattered, spilling it everywhere. They said I was no good, waste of space, that the beer meant more to them than me. Then they dropped me off at Leighton.” he says. His voice doesn’t tremble in the slightest, and he doesn’t look even a little bit sad. He seems detached, distanced from the memory. Almost like he’s recounting a movie.

“Sorry.” she says, feeling his pain for him.

He just smiles at her. “Don’t be.” he says. “Carlisle and Rosalind are really good people.” he says honestly. She beams at him.

“Really?” she asks, voice filled with hope.

He nods. “Yeah.” he says. “So… you’re a dancer?” he asks, lightening the mood. She nods quickly, a face-splitting smile on her face.

“I mean, yeah. I didn’t have much to go off of at the homes. I’m sure you know.” she says and he agrees with a nod. “But I love watching dance movies so I just kind of copied the moves in my bedroom. Drove my roommates insane.” she says and he laughs, understanding the feeling.

“What kind of dance do you do?” he asks.

“Hip-hop, mostly.” she says. “But I’d really like to learn ballet too. I wanna be a professional dancer when I grow up.”

He beams at her. “I do a bit of hip-hop. I’m sure they'll pay for ballet lessons. I’m mostly contemporary, I can like teach you some techniques for that and jazz if you want.” he says with a shrug. “Do you have your splits?” he asks and she shakes her head. “I can help you get them down.”

“That would be amazing!” she exclaims, eyes gleaming.

“You can ask them when we get back to the house if you want.” he says.

“Them?” she asks, cocking her head to the side.

“Carlisle and Rosalind.” he fills in.

“Mom and dad?” she tries with a shy smile.

He chuckles, letting out a breath as he nods slowly. “Yeah. Mom and dad.”


	32. thirty-two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible TW in this chapter: blood, raiding homes, violence in front of children, torture
> 
> Word count: 1,564

The library in their home is large with a spiralling metal staircase on either end. Thousands of books line the shelves, from ones in ancient languages to contemporary books. The room is old but well taken care of, and it looks straight out of a fiction, magical novel. Elliot doesn’t spend much time in it because his foster parents do.

Yet, he opens the large mahogany door, twisting the gold handle, and sees the pair sitting in large leather chairs with books in their hands. Their eyes snap up when the door opens and they both look pleasantly surprised to see Elliot standing there.

He smiles, somewhat awkwardly, at them before closing the door behind him. “Hi.” he says.

“Elliot!” Carlisle exclaims, quickly standing from his seat. Rosalind does the same.

“I- um… do you have a minute? I just wanted to talk…” he says slowly.

“Yes, of course!” Rosalind says. “Please, come sit.” she says, gesturing towards the plush looking sofa. He makes his way over and sits at the very end, his foster parents huddled together on the other side.

They look so joyful and excited and Elliot suddenly feels awful that he’s deprived them of this moment for months. He rubs his sweaty hands on his jeans nervously.

“I just… I wanted to say sorry. I know I’ve been really difficult since you guys adopted me, and you didn’t deserve that. You’ve been really nice to me, and I was taking it for granted.” he says, looking them in the eye. They look close to tears. “I— uh, this isn’t exactly easy for me to say but… I’ve been in and out of foster care all my life. I was always returned, people didn’t really want me. I’ve never told anyone this, but that hurt. A lot. I’ve had horrible experiences with a lot of people, and it doesn’t justify what I did, but that’s why I had a hard time trusting you. I was initially angry because I only had less than a year until I turned eighteen, and then I’d be completely free. Alone and out in the world, leave all this shit behind. I was excited, even if it meant living on the streets, because at least then, nobody could hurt me like that anymore. Nobody could just give me up, decide that they didn’t want me anymore. That I wasn’t enough. I trusted myself, and that’s all I thought I needed. I was ready to just spend my last few months at Leighton hiding away and helping take care of the younger kids. But then you adopted me.” he says. Carlisle is fully crying at this point, and Rosalind looks like she can barely keep it together.

_“Yes, Connor’s healthy. He’s just been for his monthly check-up with the doctor, and he’s a fine, healthy eight-month-old.” Ms. Lisa told them. Carlisle looked at Rosalind with a smile, and they’re nervous but extremely excited to meet the baby boy. Other children run past them, but they barely even see them. They’re too wrapped up in meeting their potential son for the first time._

_Ms. Lisa opened the door, and an older boy was holding the baby lovingly, a bottle in his hand and the baby in the other. He had beat-up earphones in so he didn’t hear them enter, too engrossed in his time with Connor. He smiled down at the eight-month-old as his little hand wrapped around the older boy’s pinky. “Yeah, you’re gonna grow up to be strong and healthy.” he cooed at the baby. “We’re gonna get you out of here, get you adopted. So many families want you, Con. Isn’t that amazing?” he asked the baby in a whisper, eyes gleaming with unshed tears. Nobody’s ever really wanted him, but he loves when the little kids at the orphanage are being fought for by various parents._

_“Oh, that’s our eldest child, Elliot. Turns eighteen at the end of the year.” Ms. Lisa told them._

_Carlisle and Rosalind shared a knowing look before turning back to her._

_“What happens to him when he turns eighteen?” Rosalind asked. Ms. Lisa only gives them a sad smile, and they understood completely._

_“Can we look into adopting him?” Carlisle asked._

_Ms. Lisa looked utterly shocked. “Really?” she asks. “He’s… other families have had many problems with him in the past. He’s a good kid, really, but…” she trailed off, looking unsurely at the pair. But they’ve made up their mind._

_“We want to meet him.” Rosalind said firmly._

“I guess I just wanted to say thank you. And I’ll work on being more grateful.” he says. They smile at him and don’t need to say a word. They just engulf him in the largest hug. He freezes for a second, unsure of what to do, but eventually smiles and relaxes, letting them embrace him.

“We love you so much, Elliot.” Rosalind says earnestly, comforting him by rubbing his heavily tattooed arm gently.

They eventually let go, and Elliot’s phone rings loudly. He takes it out and sees a text from Damien.

 **From: D the loser <3**  
its time lets go

“I have to go but… this was a good talk. Maybe we can get dinner or something soon.” he says with a smile, standing up from the sofa. His foster parents nod at him with the biggest smiles on their faces. Of course, they know about his hospital admission and his diagnosis, it was in his file— they don’t know why it happened or the story behind it, but they’ve always been worried of his eating habits ever since. “And I love Stella, by the way. I promise to look after her.”

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=zj8acw)

Elliot’s covered in blood. Head to toe. He grunts in annoyance as the man kept yelling, so he eventually finds the nearest kitchen towel and stuffs it in his mouth. The home they’ve raided is a complete mess. Everything is trashed, and okay, they may have overdone the theatrics slightly.

The man’s wife and kids cower behind a thrown over table, crying in fear. “Don’t worry. We won’t hurt ya. It’s just your man we got a problem with. You lot seem lovely.” Elliot tells them, spinning his gun around casually as he kicks the bound man down to fall to the ground. He yells in pain but it’s all muffled due to the gag.

“Honestly, you’re much better off without this wanker. Gambles all your money away, doesn’t even do it right. Owes us a lot of money.” Damien says, dabbing away at the excess blood pooling off from the cut underneath his eyebrow.

“He’s scum, no good cheat. Sleeps around with every girl he lays his eyes on. Sorry to break it to you.” Elliot tells his wife with a shrug. She only cries further. “So we’re just gonna take him.” he says, already dragging him out to their car.

“Also, sorry about the house. Got a bit carried away.” Damien says with a bashful chuckle, placing a hundred dollar bill down in front of them. “For the damages.” he adds before walking out.

When they get to the warehouse, Damien ties the man up to the chair. As Elliot grabs the duffel bag of weapons, he sighs out. “I apologised to my foster parents today.” he says, dropping the bag down in front of the seat. “They adopted another kid. Sweet girl. She’s twelve.” he adds, crouching down and unzipping the bag.

“Wow.” Damien says, looking at him carefully. “To be honest, you were being a proper tosser to them. They’re good people.” he says and Elliot shrugs guiltily.

“Well I know that now.” he says back, taking out a large knife.

The man screams behind the gag but it’s all background noise to the pair.

“Yeah, I feel awful. But I’m gonna make it up to them.” he says surely. “Gonna have a good dinner with them, take proper care of Stella. It’ll be good.” he says, almost reassuring himself more than informing Damien.

The older boy just smiles at him. “That’s good. I’m proud of you.” he says, and Elliot beams up at him.

They turn their attention to the man. “Hiya mate.” Damien says, still in a good mood. “You wanna give us that money now?” he asks.

Elliot removes the gag from the man’s mouth and he instantly panics. “I don’t have it! I’m sorry! I need another week, and I’ll get it all in cash!” he exclaims. Elliot rolls his eyes and Damiens clicks his tongue in disapproval.

“You said that last week and we gave you a shot. Mate, I was rooting for you. Why you gotta let me down like that?” he asks, crouching down to look through the bag of weapons.

“Honestly, it would’ve been so easy if you just gave us the money.” Elliot says, sounding truly disappointed at the man. He turns back to Damien. “Are we getting drinks tonight?” he asks, the man staring at him with wide eyes at their casual nature.

Damien hums from the ground. “We can do, yeah.” he says, picking up a revolver. “Logan’s busy though. He’s got the Lee job tonight.” he says.

Elliot hisses. “Yikes. Hope he’ll be okay.” he says. “I should probably text him good luck.” he says, pulling out his phone as Damien shoots the man in the shin.


	33. thirty-three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible TW in this chapter: talking about self-harming
> 
> Word count: 1,215

The room is all white, with a few shelves of books. Everything is very cold and clinical, modern in all senses. Dr. Ross has a warm smile, but she writes everything down onto a transparent clipboard. All things considered, Tyler feels very lucky to have Dr. Ross.

He clutches Pax’s hand like a lifeline. It’s his first time doing therapy with anyone else in the room, and he doesn’t necessarily know how to navigate the situation.

“I understand that Pax here has been your main support system ever since you told him about the self-harming.” she says matter-of-factly.

Tyler nods, and Pax squeezes his hand in reassurance. “Y-yeah, he has been. He’s my main support system for everything.” he says. Pax smiles at him and Dr. Ross writes it down. Always writing things down.

“How have you progressed since then?” she asks.

He huffs out, taking a deep breath. “I’ve definitely been doing it less and less…” he says, letting out a little laugh at a memory. “We spent the whole day together a few days ago, and I didn’t do it once that whole day. I haven’t been clean for a long time, so that was a really big accomplishment for me. I… I also don’t do it as deep. When they heal, they just heal over, they don’t leave a bump.” he says.

“Proud of you.” Pax mumbles to him, making Tyler smile wide.

“I just… I really feel like I’m really making progress. I get days where I think like, I could go without it. I mean, of course, it’s easier said than done, but ultimately, I do want to live a life without it. Completely. Which is something that I’ve never wanted before. I used to rely on it... like I fed off the feeling. But now… it feels different.” he says.

“Are there days where it feels worse?” Dr. Ross asks.

Tyler swallows thickly. He knows the answer, of course, he does. But he doesn’t want to say it in so much detail in front of Pax. Not when Pax doesn’t even know. “Yeah. Naturally. Um… well, yeah.” he says, a wave of anxiety flooding up. “I don’t… can we not talk about it right now?” he asks.

Because how? How do you say that the worst days are when he has to see the love of his life kissing his beautiful girlfriend? How do you say that the times when he wants to slash his arms open are the times when he has to listen to his best friend talk for _hours_ about how lucky he is to find the most perfect girl? How do you say that the moments when he wants to just give it all up are when Pax is truly, irrevocably happy?

She nods in understanding, and her pencil flies over her paper once more.

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=zj8acw)

Logan sits between Elliot and Damien, a half-finished pint of beer in front of him. “I don’t know about this…” he grumbles.

“Mate, it’s easy.” Damien urges.

“You haven’t gotten a good lay in _months_.” Elliot says, and Logan glares at him.

“Yeah, having a kid does that sometimes.” he spits out. Elliot puts his hands up in mock surrender and Damien rubs his back reassuringly.

“Yes, but Louis’ at Tyler’s! You have the night to yourself so you might as well have some fun.” Damien tells him. He huffs, groaning into his hands.

“Listen, dude, you’re hot, okay? Like, every girl has been eyeing you since you walked in.” Elliot says bluntly. Logan just shakes his head in disbelief.

“Not true. They’re looking at you guys.” he grumbles insecurely.

Damien scoffs impatiently. “Baby,” he starts, turning to face Cassie, who’s been blowing bubbles across the bar to occupy her time. They got a whole bunch of toys for Louis’ fourth birthday next week when he celebrates it along with Elliot, but she couldn’t help but play with some herself. She looks at him curiously. “Isn’t Logan fit? Like, properly hot. Total stud.” he says.

Cassie looks over at Logan, who peeks at her shyly through the small gaps between his fingers. She nods with a big smile.

“Yes, one hundred percent.” she says.

Logan groans again. “I’m like… rusty.” he admits. “I don’t know how to flirt.” he mumbles.

“You don’t need to know how to. You just let your looks do the talking for you. They’ll think you’re mysterious.” Elliot says. He scans the room and finds the prettiest girl he sees. They make eye contact, and she blushes, looking right at him and shifting her eyes to Logan. Elliot calls Logan’s attention by hitting his arm with the back of his hand a few times. “See that girl over there? Go fuck her.” he says, practically pushing the older boy off his stool and towards her direction.

He stumbles over but quickly regains his composure. He looks back at his friends for some sort of reassurance, and they all give him a big thumbs up. He takes a deep breath and walks towards her.

“Hey… I was wondering when you’d come over here.” she says, finger tracing his shoulder tantalisingly. He doesn’t know what to say, so he just smirks at her and shrugs. Much to his surprise, it seems to work. _Elliot might be a genius_ , he thinks. She presses herself against him and places her plump lips right by his ear. “Quiet type, huh? Well I can make you moan my name.” she whispers huskily, licking a stripe down his neck.

Elliot laughs as he watches the scene unfold. “I’m fucking brilliant.” he says joyfully.

A string of bubbles block his vision, making both boys face Cassie.

“Baby, these are for Louis.” Damien says, grabbing the bag of assorted toys.

In response, she just smiles at him, swaying side to side along to the beat of the music. Damien raises a brow and grabs a random, unopened bottle from the bag and dips the wand in aggressively before blowing bubbles onto her face. She giggles as one pops right on the tip of her nose. “Mine’s making more bubbles.” he says matter-of-factly.

“That’s because yours is wetter. The wetter it is, the more bubbles come out.” she says. She looks at him with pure innocence, cocking her head to the side with a smile. “That’s why I’m always so bubbly around you, daddy.”

He stares at her for a second before manhandling her onto his lap, making her straddle him. “Is that so, princess?” he grumbles.

She bites her lip and nods, looking up at him through thick eyelashes.

Elliot turns his attention to Logan, where the girl has properly attached herself onto his crotch, grinding back onto it in time with the loud music. He then looks at Damien, who’s in a full make-out session with Cassie, his hands already under her skirt.

He huffs, rolling his eyes. Taking Logan’s forgotten drink, he chugs it all out before slamming it down onto the table. He raises his hand to the bartender, who looks at him attentively. “Yeah, get me another one.” he calls out. The bartender nods and Elliot points at the wall where Logan’s at. “And put it on _his_ tab. Fucker owes me one.”


	34. thirty-four.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word count: 1,534

Elliot watches the ticking clock with unimpressed eyes. He’s always hated analog wall clocks. They remind him of exams. Also, he hates being constantly aware of the fleeting passage of time. Either way.

His literature teacher goes on and on about something daft and he just doesn’t have it in him to pay attention. He never does.

The girl next to him tries to sit as far away from him as possible, opting to teeter the edge of the shared table. He’s not entirely sure if it’s because she’s put off by him or if it’s because he slept with her and she’s mad he hasn’t returned her texts. It’s hard to keep track.

Head still laid on his bag, he dozes over to sleep.

It’s not until the bell rings loudly and he’s being shoved awake does he open his eyes. “Wha?” he asks, voice thick with sleep. He looks up the hand who woke him up and is met with auburn hair and amused eyes. “Elizabeth?”

Her eyes widen like she’s shocked he even knows her name but quickly gains her composure.

“We got assigned as partners for the lit project.” she says with a shy smile.

He smiles at her lazily and sits up, shrugging the backpack on and cracking his cramped joints. “My place or yours?” he asks with a wink.

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=zj8acw)

He laughs as she reads the storybook out in different caricatured voices, blabbering about some mystic quest. She lays her head on his thighs as she does, even making silly faces to match the characters.

“Truly brilliant.” he says when she closes the book. In their defence, they were working very hard on their English Literature project. That is until Elliot spotted the low shelf filled with various paraphernalia from Elizabeth’s childhood. She can’t help but smile as he smirks down at her, her heart leaping slightly. “You’re funny, you know that?” he asks and she blushes. She sits up, much to his disappointment, and faces him.

“I’ve been told once or twice.” she replies cheekily.

“Wanna watch South Park?” he asks and her face lights up.

“How’d you know I love South Park?” she asks with suspicious eyes. He shrugs with a grin.

“I didn’t, but I do so.” he says and she mockingly pushes his arm.

They set her laptop up on the floor and settle into the bean bags in front of it. She picks out an episode before leaning back, shocked but pleased to find his arm already draped across the back of her bean bag. When she settles down, he wraps the arm around her shoulders. Her heart does flips.

She’s heard all the stories about Elliot— doesn’t spend time with you outside having sex, doesn’t bother with pleasantries and small talk, literally tells you he’s in it just for the fuck. This is different. This doesn’t tick any of the boxes.

“This is my favourite episode.” he says as the show plays.

“Mine too.” she tells him. He smiles down at her and doesn’t stop himself from pinching her nose fondly.

They turn their attention back to the show and everything goes relatively fine. Halfway through the third episode, he leans down and kisses her. She gasps in shock but recovers quickly when he deepens the kiss.

An hour and a half later, he rolls over her with a sigh. “Fuck, you’re good at that.” he says with a deep breath, laying beside her. Her heart soars. _I’m special to him_ , she thinks certainly. _He’s gonna stay_.

“Which part?” she asks.

“All of it.” he says earnestly, grabbing his black boxer briefs from next to him and puts it on. He adjusts himself like such a _boy_ but she can’t look away.

She blushes brightly, feeling it down to her toes. “I’ve had a crush on you for eight months.” she spills, thinking it’s fine because she feels so special to him. She _knows_ it.

He huffs, arm propped underneath his head. “I don’t do emotions.” he says almost instantly, eyebrows furrowed and eyes glued to the ceiling. Her heart drops and she suddenly feels like a right idiot. He hums. “Was that around the time you transferred in?” he asks and she nods, at a loss for words. Her mouth is dry and she feels so embarrassed. Yet, here she still lays next to him, unable and not wanting to leave. “Then I’ve been wanting to fuck you for eight months.” he says and she hates how she blushes, hates how she preens at his words. He notices her breath hitch and smirks, hand playing with her hair slightly, almost like scratching the head of a cat. Yet she melts underneath his touch. He doesn’t let the moment last long. Soon, much too soon, he’s retracting his hand and sitting up.

He starts to put his jeans back on and she suddenly feels much too naked. She hides under the duvet, bringing it up to her chin, still blushing a bright red. He hums a tune she doesn’t recognise as he sits on the edge of the bed, putting on his socks and then his shoes. “Have you seen my shirt, babe?” he asks, standing up to face her. She feels her stomach stir at the pet name.

She shakes her head and he huffs, hands on his hips. He kneels onto the bed and climbs over, stopping when he’s right in front of her to give her a quick kiss that she eagerly returned, and then hopped off the other side. “AHA! Found it.” he says happily, picking it up from the floor and slipping it on.

He looks at her, all bundled up in the white duvet, and can’t help but smile fondly. He sits next to her and, because she has no self-control whatsoever, brings a hand up to trace his tattoos. He watches her long natural lashes flutter and the light fluttering of pink adorn her soft cheeks. He’s entranced for a moment and has a thought he’s never had with his other one night stands.

“I like this.” he admits.

A smile splits her face. “Yeah?” she asks hopefully.

He nods thoughtfully. “I’d like to make this a thing if you’re up for it.” he says. The words are unfamiliar on his tongue. He’s never been with one girl for more than one night. He doesn’t like risking them getting attached to him. But he enjoyed his time with her and he’s not one to deny himself life’s pleasures.

Her eyes light up instantly, not unlike a flick of a switch. She knows he’s never done this with anyone before and hope buoys in her chest. He feels kind of bad, knowing what she’s thinking. “But before you agree,” he adds quickly, watching as her eyes dim ever so slightly with each word. “I need you to understand that this doesn’t mean we’re going to date. Ever. I mean, it’s not personal... I don’t wanna date _anyone_. And I enjoy your company more than most if that makes you feel any better.” he says and it does. Visibly. “But this isn’t going to be one of those things where I say I don’t wanna be with you and end up falling for you. I’m not. So if that’s gonna be a problem, don’t agree because you’re just gonna end up getting hurt.” he says.

Her expression is a whirlwind of emotions: devastation, uncertainty, relief. Above all of it remains hope. He can’t stop her from staying hopeful but he told her the hard truth. It’s up to her whether or not she believes him.

“I... what would we be?” she asks, head still spinning. He huffs. That question is always a bad sign. She sinks lower into the pillows insecurely at his reaction and because he feels kinda guilty, he gives her forehead a quick peck.

“We’d just be fucking. You can see other people if you want, I don’t care.” he says with a casual shrug.

She grimaces ever so slightly. He tries not to think about it. “Would you be seeing other people?” she asks. “You know... having sex with other girls?” she clarifies, voice impossibly smaller.

He shrugs again. “Probably.” he says. Hurt flashes in her eyes but it’s gone just as fast as it came. She sits up higher, forcing herself to pull it together.

And it’s not like he would actively sleep with other people, knowing he had her as a consistent lay, but if he was at a club and the opportunity presented itself, well then…

He’s not sure if that would make her feel better or not so he just keeps his mouth shut.

“Yeah, we can do it.” she says.

He breaks into a smile. He nuzzles his nose onto hers before giving her a gentle kiss on her lips. Her breath hitches. It’s hard not to have suspicions that it’s all an act and that he actually is falling for her when he acts like this. He kisses her with a bit more passion before pulling away and rubbing a thumb over her cheek fondly.

“That’s a good girl.” he says and she absolutely preens.


	35. thirty-five.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol i'm depressed but i've had this planned from the start oops
> 
> Possible TW in this chapter: violence, blood, major character death
> 
> Word Count: 1,298

“Finally! Where were you?” Damien asks, throwing a pillow at Elliot as he walks in through Logan’s front door.

He catches it with ease and throws it back. “Had a project with Elizabeth.” he says, settling down onto the sofa. Logan cocks his head to the side curiously, Louis mimicking his actions on his lap.

“That girl you’ve been meaning to sleep with?” he asks and Elliot nods with a proud smirk.

“The very one.” he says. “What are you fuckers up to?”

“Fucker!” Louis exclaims happily, clapping his hands in glee. Logan shrieks in horror and turns the toddler around so he’s facing him, Damien and Elliot dying of laughter behind them.

“No, peanut, you can’t say that. That’s bad. It’s a bad, bad word. It’s mean.” Logan says, Louis pouting up at him. “Okay? Don’t say it, especially not in school. Can you do that for me?” he asks and Louis nods. Logan peppers his face with kisses fondly and the toddler giggles in delight.

Logan turns back to Elliot and Damien with a thoughtful expression. “I’ve been thinking of changing my intro song.” he says. He’s not one to change his boxing introductory song often. He likes to get energised and pump the crowd up with the same song as he walks out into the ring; he sees it as a distinct signature.

“What’s your song now?” Elliot asks, scratching his head in thought.

“ _Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap_. AC/DC.” Damien answers, stretching his arms behind himself as he leans further into the sofa.

Elliot snorts. “Funny,” he says.

“Anyways, I’ve been using it all year. Any suggestions?” Logan asks, bouncing Louis on his knee.

“What about that one Usher track? That sick chorus— _hey hey, hey daddy_.” Damien sings badly and Elliot doubles over in laughter, nodding in agreement. Logan just grimaces and covers Louis’ ears tightly, the young boy looking up at him curiously.

“Listen, after being an _actual_ father, that shit’s been ruined for me. _Louis_ calls me daddy. No way.” Logan says, dropping his hands from the toddler’s ears.

“Yeah, we’re not all freaky.” Elliot cackles and the other two just raise their brows at him.

“Like you’re one to talk.” Logan retorts.

“Yeah, we all heard you and that Jackie girl last year.” Damien says with a smug look on his face, Elliot sticking his tongue out at the two.

“I’m thinking _Sexy Can I_.” Logan thinks out loud, picking Louis up and setting him down on the couch. He plays the song off his phone and starts to bound towards them to the beat, feet jumping and arms up, swinging the air as he usually does when he comes out for a fight.

Damien and Elliot cheer with large smiles, Louis hopping off the sofa and copying his movements. “Can you do this, peanut?” Logan asks, starting to do the running man. Louis giggles and tries to imitate him, though his pudgy arms and legs make him look like he’s just running in place.

Laughter fills the air as Damien plays around with starting and stopping the song, Louis yelling at Logan that he has to stop moving when the music stops. Just as the music stops for the fourth time, a loud banging noise cascades from outside the door.

And it all happens in slow motion.

The door is kicked down and three men barge in with guns out. Damien, Elliot, and Logan all bring their guns up from their backs to the three, reflexes moving lightning fast. “Take Louis!” Logan yells to Damien, who instantly runs for the toddler, covering the confused boy completely with his own body and running for the bedroom.

Damien opens up the closet and puts Louis down, covering his ears tightly as they both sit inside. The young boy looks at him in cluelessness and a building panic, Damien desperately trying to calm him down. “ _Blackbird singing in the dead of night_ ,” Damien sings, voice low, and Louis seems to relax, although he can’t particularly hear him. “ _Take these broken wings and learn to fly_.”

He keeps his gun next to him, ready to shoot at any given moment whilst keeping the young boy safe. He hears fighting and screaming coming from the living room, gunshots and fists on flesh. The sounds make him clutch the boy closer to him. “ _All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arrive_.”

He sings and bounces the boy in his arms, and when he hears nothing but silence outside, he freezes. Within seconds, the door opens and Damien’s already got a gun pointing at the man who enters, one hand still on Louis’ ear and pushing him into his chest to cover the other. He lowers the firearm when he sees Elliot, who has blood all over his clothes and a gunshot wound by his shoulder. He’s crying hard and Damien’s heart sinks. His blood runs cold and he hears a ringing in his ears.

“Don’t take Louis outside.” Elliot says desperately, confirming Damien’s worst fears. Damien stands quickly, gently placing Louis down in the closet.

“Stay here, okay, Louis? Be a good boy, stay right here.” Damien tells the toddler, tears already forming in his eyes.

“Daddy?” Louis asks quietly, fearfully.

“Just stay here, please, peanut.” Damien tells him. Louis nods in uncertainty, biting on his nails nervously. Damien bolts out as Elliot collapses onto the floor, sobbing into his knees, Louis calling out an unsure and quiet “ _Ellie?_ ”, which only makes Elliot cry harder. He sees the three men on the ground, all dead and bloody. He pays no mind until he sees Logan, sputtering blood on the floor. He’s got a gunshot wound in his thigh and a deep slash in his throat, he’s barely moving and his eyes are staring up at the ceiling.

Damien runs to him, cradling his best friend onto his lap. Tears fall from Damien’s eyes as Logan looks at him, eyes already half-shut. His heart drops to his stomach and every memory he’s ever had with Logan plays in his head in fast forward. “Stay with us, Logan. We’ll get you to a hospital, you’ll be okay. You’ll be fine.” he says over and over again. Logan vaguely shakes his head, knowing the worst.

“Take care of Louis. Please. No orphanage, no foster care…” Logan says, a strangled gurgle as the cut in his throat digs deeper. “Take him to Elliot’s. His parents can take care of him. Don’t give him to my family.”

“Don’t fucking talk like that, Logan. You’re gonna be okay.” Damien says desperately.

“We both know,” he says, bleeding out of the slash and causing him to cough out even more blood, his face pales significantly. “That I’m a fucking goner so just please… take care of my boy. Make sure he gets a good life. Please, Damien. Promise me.” he begs with a surge of intensity that somebody bleeding out in the arms of his best friend shouldn’t have.

Damien swallows a giant lump in his throat and nods slowly. “I will, mate. Promise. Always. He won’t ever pick up a weapon, he’ll never fight.” he says, and Logan smiles, weak but content. He slumps down, his body relaxing limply against the pool of blood beneath him. “May you be in heaven a full half hour before the devil realises you’re dead.” Damien says with a small smirk and fresh tears in his eyes. His best friend attempts a laugh but it turns into a grunt of agony, more thick blood seeping out from his mouth.

“Tell him I love him.” he says through broken noises, and before Damien could respond, he stills completely. Damien yells out in pain, clutching his friend closer to him tightly.


	36. thirty-six.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word count: 1,141

That night, after Damien calms Louis enough to fall asleep safely in their home, he sneaks into Cassie’s room through her window. His sweat is matted onto his skin and he has Logan’s dried blood on him. His eyes flash nothing but pain. She smiles, phone against her ear, when she hears the knock on her window but hangs up the call quickly when she sees the state in which he’s in. She opens the window and he falls onto her floor. He leans against the wall, every fibre of his body in a distraught pain, unmoving and stoic.

“What’s happening?” she asks, gathering him in her arms and smoothening his hair.

“They killed Logan. The fucking Lees. They killed him. I didn’t help, couldn’t save him.” he says, voice flat. He has no energy to feel anger or to cry any more than he already has. He just sits there, feeling completely empty. He seems completely emotionless but his eyes give it away. “Tomorrow, I will get my revenge. For tonight, I just need to be with you.” Damien says, voice hoarse. She has nothing to say, can’t even comprehend his words, so she stays where she is, running her hands through his hair. “Sing me something, love.” he says. “Sing me something sad.”

“Alright, but I warn you. It’ll break your heart.” she says softly, a delicate hand on his bloody ones.

He shrugs weakly, still not looking at her. “Already broken.”

He feels nothing but a heavy guilt. He knows his actions saved Louis and he knows that he had to stay in that closet with him, in case the little boy wandered out into the bloodbath happening outside. But still, he can’t help the thoughts eating away at him that if he was there, they would have been evenly matched and he could have stopped Logan’s fate. If only.

He doesn’t sleep at Cassie’s. After she sings, he sneaks back out, saying he’ll call her in the morning. She doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t do anything to stop him. He goes back home, it’s two in the morning, and his parents wake at him slamming the door carelessly.

They run down, guns in hand, but lower them as soon as they see him. “Damien! Why do you look like that?” his father asks. His mother runs to him and engulfs him in a hug upon seeing his solemn eyes.

“Louis’ here. He’s sleeping in my room.” Damien says lowly and at his words, Natalia hugs him tighter and Greyson’s jaw locks. They don’t need to hear anything else; they understand completely.

“Who?” his father asks, voice stern and angry.

“The Lees.” Damien responds and he doesn’t even flinch when his voice cracks.

Natalia pulls away and looks him dead in the eyes. The Lees… they’re angry because Logan headed the raid against their factory headquarters. They’re angry because Logan nearly wiped them out. This won’t go unnoticed. We’ll take them all out, I promise you that.” she says, voice steady.

“Give me Moss.” he says, referring to the boss of the Lees. “He’s mine.” he growls.

“We’ll let you know when he’s bound and in the warehouse. He’s yours.” his father agrees.

Damien nods his goodbyes before dragging his feet to his room, his parents sharing concerned looks but already calling their contacts. He quietly enters and sees the toddler still curled up into a tiny ball, taken over by sleep. He sighs as his heart breaks all over again.

He treads to his bathroom and turns on the shower, stripping his bloody clothes off and tossing them into the hamper. He steps into the freezing water but doesn’t wince. He feels nothing. He doesn’t know how long he’s been standing there but his skin is rubbed raw and angry from how hard he’s been scrubbing it, even bleeding in some areas, in a desperate attempt to get all the blood off of him. The water below him is pink as it falls into the drain, the last remnants of Logan sinking away.

He steps out of the shower and dries himself vigorously, towel rubbing against his sensitive skin painfully. He puts on old sweatpants that he knows he stole from Logan three months ago and it makes his heart pang thickly and sharply.

Damien crawls onto his bed next to Louis, careful not to wake him, and the young boy instantly attaches himself to his side, little hand gripping his skin. A stray tear falls from Damien’s eye, drying onto his skin.

He wakes up to Louis crying loudly, shrieking and wailing. He glances at the clock, six o’clock. He gathers Louis quickly in his arms, attempting to calm him down. “Shh, shh, Louis…” Damien says quietly.

“Uncle Damien… nightmare. I had a scary dream!” he exclaims, fat tears rolling down his puffy cheeks.

“Me too, peanut. Me too.” he says, hugging him tightly. Damien barely got a wink of sleep from the graphic images that plagued his mind. His best friend’s dead body, blood choking him as he tried to speak— Damien unable to do anything.

“Where’s daddy?” he screams, crying harder.

Damien’s heart sinks. “Louis, love… your daddy’s gone.” he says, mouth dry.

“Where did he go? Where?!” Louis demands. “Why did he leave me? He always takes me with him!”

Damien lets a few tears fall before blinking them away. “Some very bad men hurt him, Louis. Do you understand? Some mean men hurt him real bad… he’s not coming back. He can’t… but he’ll always be with you. He’s always here, baby.” he says, and Louis screams in pain, punching Damien’s torso repeatedly. Damien doesn’t feel a thing.

It goes like this for a full hour and a half. Louis is inconsolable, screaming and crying and angry. Damien feels the same way. Natalia and Greyson poked their head in once but knew to leave it alone. They knew there was nothing they could do or say to help the situation but it broke their hearts to see a toddler in so much pain.

“Uncle Damien… I want daddy.” Louis says, voice hoarse and scratchy from all the screaming, crying violently against Damien’s shirt. He stopped hitting him, just falls limply in his arms.

“I know you do, love, I know. I want him back too.” he says quietly. “But Uncle Damien will take care of those very bad men. I’m gonna make sure they never hurt anyone ever again.” he says as Louis releases tiny hiccups. “Uncle Damien will get them back for your daddy.”

“Want daddy, want daddy…” Louis says weakly, repeating it over and over, almost to himself. Damien only hugs him tighter to himself, Louis’ arms falling to the side, limp, and crying into Damien’s neck. “Miss daddy…” he says softly, fat tears falling down his young cheeks.


	37. epilogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS I DID IT! MY FIRST EVER FULL STORY!
> 
> I really hope you guys enjoyed it and continue to share it, even when it's already finished. Thank you so much for all the hits and kudos, I could cry -- it really exceeded every expectation I ever had.
> 
> Also, I have another story! You can read it here if you want: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15464826/chapters/35899854
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you x
> 
> Word count: 2,163

“You fucking dickhead!” Cassie exclaims angrily, rage swimming in her eyes as she watches Damien drip blood onto the carpet _again_. “I just fucking cleaned that last week! Do you know how fucking hard it is to clean blood off of carpet? Fuck you!” she exclaims angrily. His face contorts into pure confusion and then immediate regret. It’s never a good sign when Cassie starts cursing.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, baby.” he tries but she just lets out an angry growl.

“You always fucking do this!” Cassie grunts.

Two years living together after Cassie graduated high school and she’s turned into the perfect mafia wife— she cleans his weapons when he’s too tired to do so, sits on his lap as he goes through meeting after meeting, removes bullets from his body. She even got him to agree, after a full year of persuasion, to let her help from time to time so sometimes she acts as bait. She balances it perfectly with her life as a Forensic Psychology major and the irony is not lost upon them. However, having that insider insight to the way criminals think made her assignments easy and her papers compelling, pushing her to the top of her class.

Of course, they faced their fair share of struggles as well. Like that time Cassie was working on a group project for her Criminology I class and one of the guys had the _nerve_ to ask her on a date so, obviously, Damien had to break his leg as a warning and Cassie wouldn’t sleep with him for a whole week. Or the time that he had taken her to Spain for her spring break, only to find out that he was also there for business so she spent two days of the week pent-up in their hotel room, waiting for him to return with a duffel bag full of cash and doped up, glazed over eyes. And the time when Cassie had somehow gotten some creepy kid from her Introduction to the Criminal Justice System class obsessed with her and she ended up stalking her, making voodoo dolls of her, and slipped some rohypnol into her drink— but Damien found them before she could do anything to Cassie and that girl never saw the light of day again. Most especially the time when some of his enemies got really ballsy and kidnapped her on her way home from university, keeping her hostage for two days. He didn’t sleep for those days and got his revenge tenfold.

“I planned such a fun afternoon for us, but _no_ , you just _had_ to ruin it!” she exclaims. She jumps off the bed, only in the pastel pink lingerie he had bought her last week, and grabs the nearest shirt she finds— one of Damien’s white button-ups. She slips it on and she’s practically swimming in it. He tries not to drool at the sight of her. She leaves the top unbuttoned and just angrily folds the sleeves as she keeps talking. “It’s fucking hell week, Damien! I have an Applied Criminal Justice Ethics exam, a presentation for Theories of Personality, _and_ a fucking paper to write for Psychology of Criminal Behaviour due Tuesday— I don’t have fucking time to clean carpets because you’re being fucking insensitive!” she yells angrily, turning away from him and storming off to the kitchen.

Damien chases after her, speaking quickly and loudly. “Babe, you know I can get someone else to do all your work for you. You don’t have to deal with it.” he offers like he’s done a thousand times in the past two years.

She whips around to face him, radiating pure anger. “I wanna do it on my own. I actually have integrity.” she spits out. She turns back around and violently opens one of the cabinets under the sink. She picks up the basket with all the equipment she’s so well acquainted with and storms back into the bedroom. He barely has time to keep up.

She drops to her knees and tentatively touches the blood stains, finding them already dry. She grunts in annoyance and grabs the steel brush, rubbing it against the carpet vigorously to loosen the stain and remove the surface deposit. “I fucking took time to plan this fucking thing,” she starts, gesturing towards her lingerie-clad body. “For you to enjoy after your fucking job for you to blow off some fucking steam and you fucking ruined it!”

“Let me help you, babe.” he says, almost desperately. He can’t stand it when she’s mad at him.

Her eyes snap to meet his and the blatant anger in them makes him drop the bottle he picked up back into the basket. She absolutely has him wrapped around his little finger. He may be the boss of everyone but he succumbs so easily to her. She barely even has to bat an eyelash to get everything she ever wants.

“I’m sorry. Please, baby.” he says with so much earnest that it stops her movements. She looks up at his pleading eyes and sighs, setting down the brush and crawling to kneel in front of him, sitting down on her feet.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I yelled.” she says back, gentle thumb grazing over his cheek. He leans forward and kisses her tentatively, only deepening it when he feels her kissing back. She pulls away and lets him keep his hand up her bare thigh, eyes shamelessly staring her body down under the open button-up.

“Baby, you look so beautiful.” he says with a satisfied smile, sighing against her warm skin. “I’m the luckiest man alive. Aren’t I, princess?” he asks, hiking his hand higher and using the other one to support her back as he leans her down onto the ground, his clothed body on top of her barely covered one. She giggles and kisses him once more. He’s the first to pull away this time, tutting at her in disapproval. “I asked you a question, princess. Where are your manners?” he asks.

She bats her eyes at him innocently. “Sorry, daddy. Yes, you are; and I’m the luckiest girl alive.” she says. Satisfied with her answer, he leans down and kisses her fervently. She whines against his neck when he pulls away once more, mouthing at the skin and leaving her mark.

“I’m sorry, baby, but we’re already running late.” he says remorsefully. She gives one last nip to the love bite she left, smiling at the large bruise in satisfaction. He helps her stand up and kisses her once more before gently pushing her away. “Get dressed.” he says, patting her pert ass. “And where that underneath. I’m not done with you yet.” he says with dark eyes.

She giggles and makes a show of dropping the button-up onto the floor, leaving her even more exposed. He groans in want but looks away so he can get ready himself.

When they arrive at the house of Elliot’s parents, the backyard is already decked out in decorations and the party’s in full swing. Damien parks the car and they walk hand-in-hand, the large wrapped up present under his other arm.

“Where’s the birthday boy?” Damien asks happily as they walk in.

“He’s playing musical chairs with his friends over there. So glad you two could make it!” Carlisle says with a smile. Rosalind graciously accepts Damien’s gift as the pair walk further into the yard. As soon as he makes eye contact with the young boy, he screams and runs towards them, completely forgetting about the game he was playing.

“Uncle Damien! Auntie Cassie!” he exclaims. He jumps into Damien’s arms, picking him up with ease.

“Hey Louis! Happy birthday!” he says, blowing raspberries against his cheer. He laughs and hugs him tightly before he’s set back down.

“Six-years-old, wow! You’re quite the big boy now, huh?” Cassie asks and he nods quickly with a big grin.

“I wish daddy was here. I still miss him.” Louis says with a slight pout.

“We miss him too, bud.” Damien says with a sigh. Each time Damien comes to visit, Louis looks more and more like Logan. It makes it harder for him to look the young boy in the eye. “Hey, go play. You were winning your game.” he says, gesturing towards the paused game of musical chairs. He giggles and nods, running back to his friends.

“You okay?” Cassie asks Damien gently, knowing how he can get when he sees Louis. He nods, kissing her temple and muttering a quiet _thank you_ by her ear. They walk inside the house and see Elliot drinking a beer and chatting to Stella enthusiastically.

“…and if we train more tomorrow, you’re sure to win the championship.” he says, smiling down at her. “We just need to work a little bit more to get your Grand Jeté higher and you’re golden.” he says.

“E!” Damien exclaims. Elliot looks up and smiles at Damien, excusing himself from Stella and giving him a hug before leaning lower and hugging Cassie. “So where’s your girl?” he asks.

Elliot gives him a slightly embarrassed look. “We broke up. Or well, I made her break up with me.” he says. Cassie sighs and hands a smug Damien a ten dollar bill.

“You really couldn’t last _two_ months?! Come on, E.” Cassie asks with a groan, making Elliot laugh. After high school, Elliot decided he wanted to start letting people in again. He was done running from his past like a coward. But he’s still learning; he hasn’t been able to keep a relationship longer than three months but… baby steps.

“How’s that paper coming?” Elliot asks and Cassie’s eyes widen.

“Shoot, yeah! You just reminded me! I need to ask you a few more questions.” she says, already tugging at his wrist.

He groans. “What? More?” he asks and Cassie just smiles at him.

“You know you’re my most interesting and my most absolute favourite criminal.” she says.

“Hey!” Damien says from her side, turning to her in offence. She just giggles and sends him a quick flying kiss.

“Alright, alright.” Elliot says, downing his beer and allowing Cassie to drag him off.

Damien huffs and looks around until he finds Pax, chatting up a random girl he doesn’t know. “What’s up?” he asks and Pax looks at him with a smile, completely forgetting about the girl. She squeaks in annoyance before marching off at the loss of Pax’s attention.

“Same old, same old.” he says with a shrug. “Have you seen Ty?” he asks and Damien shakes his head. After a year, Pax and Rose split up. It wasn’t a bad breakup and they still remain friends now, Rose engaged to some other guy in the business. After that, Tyler confessed his feelings to Pax, who didn’t take it particularly well. After two months of awkward tension, Pax finally apologised, saying he couldn’t stand being without Tyler in his life, and they went back to their normal relationship. Tyler dealt with it because when Pax got drunk, he’d kiss him gently and it was all he ever wanted. Eventually, kissing turned into more, which elated Tyler… but Pax was never sober when he was pounding away at him and telling him he loved him. He just woke up the next day saying he was so drunk, he didn’t even remember the night.

“Are you drunk?” Damien asks and Pax only shrugs. “You need to stop doing this.” he says with a sigh, shaking his head in disapproval. “You’re hurting him.” Pax looks at him with a furrow between his brows. Damien only rolls his eyes. “Cut the bullshit. I know about you guys hooking up.”

Pax finishes the drink in his hand nervously. “Oh.” he says. “Yeah. He deserves better.” he says sadly, slumping down onto a nearby seat.

Damien sighs, hitting Pax behind his head and ignoring the curse word Pax throws at him. “You fucking idiot. You guys deserve each other, you’re great together. You just need to get over your stupid heteronormative mindset and accept that you love him too, you dumb wanker.” Damien says in exasperation.

Pax just blinks up at him and Damien half expects him to yell and argue and say that he’s _straight, thank you very much_ , but all he gets is a few nods and softened eyes.

Damien smiles at him and helps him stand up. “Alright, now that that’s over with…” he says, pulling out a large blunt from his cigarette box. “It’s not gonna smoke itself.” he says and Pax cheers loudly, clapping him on the back.

“You’re the fucking man, Black.” he whoops. They wrestle each other as they climb the stairs to Elliot’s old bedroom to hotbox, sending a selfie to Elliot, who replied with ‘ _FUCK U GUYS IM TRYING TO HELP UR GIRL AND U SMOKE WITHOUT ME? FUCK U!_ ’.

And some things never change.


End file.
